


Lionheart

by Jeanemon



Series: Fear and Loathing in the Commonwealth [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Chewing on the canon a bit, F/M, Fluff, Oop oh here's the angst, ptsd mention, self indulgent bullshit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 106,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanemon/pseuds/Jeanemon
Summary: Life in the Brotherhood was meant to go a certain way. Paladin Danse assumes that he'll make his last stand at the Cambridge Police station because that makes sense. There's no rescue coming, no Calvary riding in to save the day.Enter, stage left: A recently defrosted pre-war popsicle with a habit for both hoarding and lying. She crashes into his life with the force of the Atom bomb that drove her beneath ground, and nothing will ever make sense again.On hiatus





	1. The story begins, as it always does

It was an often told tale, the reverse rescue story. Danse would swear that Haylen told it about the Prydwen more often than she mentioned stories of their victories in battles or anything actually important.

Down four men, five if you counted Rhys’ prone form after being savaged by ferals. Haylen on her knees by the Knight, trying to keep him stable while Danse tried to buy them all time to retreat into the police station. Perhaps they’d be able to hole up there, bolster their defenses and wait it out.

“And then,” Haylen would always grin as she told the story, leaning closer to her audience as she did. “There was that God-awful sound of a laser musket priming and firing and one of the ghouls crawling up our Paladin’s back fell down without a head. I look towards the fence and there’s a civilian in a duster and cowboy hat perched on top, cranking his musket for another shot as calm as can be.”

He’d nodded at Danse serenely, as if it was an every day sort of thing to perch feet above the scrambling clawing hands of a feral horde and pick the wretches off of a Brotherhood Paladin. Sort of a ‘same shit, different day’ sort of vibe from him. The second shot he’d fired, the one Haylen never mentioned, had destroyed a feral inches from clawing into Haylen’s shock filled face.

“And then she comes around the corner, howling like Ingram did when Clarke thought he’d be slick and ‘help’ with maintenance.” Haylen would always pause and grin again, waiting for snickers to die down. “Fellas, I don’t know if I’ve seen a sight more welcome than this wastelander and her tire iron.”

It hadn’t been awe-inspiring like Haylen would tell it later. All Danse had been aware of was a horrible shrieking, peppered with squelching and snarling as the rag-covered wastelander screamed with rage as she went in close. He’d occasionally hear a roar of ‘Fuck this wasteland-’ or ‘Preston you little shit’, the second would always draw a chuckle from the man still calmly sniping off ferals. 

“They helped us turn the tides.” That much was true, with Preston’s calm approach and the wailing rag demon’s less subtle one they dispatched the horde of ferals. Preston had easily climbed down after, making sure that his companion was all right. “And they offered to help us get the signal set up. Eventually.”

Danse hadn’t handled the situation as well as he could’ve, he admitted that. His harsh, authoritative bark might have made Preston stand up a little taller, but the woman was too busy pulling gore-soaked rags from her face with a growl of disgust.

She looked halfway to ghoul herself: sallow skin covered with radiation lesions and exhausted bloodshot eyes under patchy eyebrows giving her the tale-tell look of someone who’d been exposed to too much radiation. “Gee,” She’d said then, voice raspy outside of battle. “I wonder why we’re here?” She’d smacked around dramatically on her pip-boy for a moment before Haylen’s message played. She allowed it to play in it’s entirety twice before making her eyes as wide as they could possibly go and turning to Preston with a faux confused face. “Preston, my dear, why did we come here again?”

Either Preston had the patience of a saint or he was just as big of an asshole as the little woman was, because he just kept that calm smile on his face in spite of her sarcastic display. “Because the minutemen come when help is needed.”

“I hate you.” Her response lacked venom, her voice was as tired as her eyes looked. “We were passing by the area and Preston is trying to get me into the whole ‘do good’ sort of thing.”

He stared down at the little rad-sick woman hard for a moment before he sighed and thanked her. Preston beamed in the background. Brisk introductions were made all around. Their scribe brought up her idea to power their message to the brotherhood, and the little rad-sick woman, Vera, seemed willing to assist if the price was right.

“We’re getting help from mercenaries?” Rhys snarled, low and dangerous, and while Danse could give the man some slack because Keane was dead and Rhys had nearly followed suit he ordered him to be quiet.

“Good intentions don’t buy food and radaway, caps do.” Vera looked like she needed a few good doses of the stuff as is. “And if I have to deal with his sterling personality on the trip I’ll charge double for the trouble.”

“Knight Rhys will restrain himself.” Danse assured her while his glare silenced the surly Knight. “I suggest we set out in the morning.”

Himself, Preston, and Vera scout out the building, blocking off any indefensible rooms and scavenging what they could. By the end of the rounds Vera was visibly shaking and Preston supported her without being asked. She looked torn between being grateful for the help and being angry that it was needed.

“Sit down, I’ll get the RadAway.”

“I hate that shit.”

“I know, I know. But it beats dying, right?”

“Hate you too.”

The two hired guns don’t set up their bedrolls with the Brotherhood members, choosing to camp out behind the receptionists counter. Preston settled her down and nailed the bag of RadAway to the wall. He henned over her for a bit more, making sure she was eating and had grabbed the clean water from her pack, before he was shooed away.

Preston was calm and rational, he reacted well to orders given and could handle himself in a fight. Danse silently wished that he’d be the one accompanying him, but the man had important business in Diamond City to secure supplies for a settlement nearby. “Take care of her for me, all right?” Preston had asked softly, not wanting to disturb woman resting behind the counter. She’s fallen asleep braced against the wall, half eaten piece of jerky in her lap and her canteen still clutched in her hands. “Make sure she takes RadAway when she needs it and she’ll get you through the lab.”

There was a snort and a curse from behind the counter and Vera scrambled into the ruins of the station’s bathroom. Preston took that time to ensure that the RadAway bag was empty. When Vera returned she was already looking less haggard, though she went right back to her bedroll and laid down.

The group parted ways in the morning: Rhys and Haylen stayed to fortify the police station and Danse would be lying if he wasn’t worried about their chances, Preston headed to Diamond city and promised to return as soon as he could, and Danse and Vera headed to Arcjet.

The trip wasn’t as bad as Danse had been expecting, despite her erratic battle behavior Vera kept her eyes sharp and reacted quickly to danger. She pulled out a sawed off shotgun to replace her tire iron when they got too close to a group of raiders, seemingly content to take on the world at close range whether it be by gun or by melee.

Despite being visibly radsick she fought well, she wasn’t the typical worthless civilian who cowered when things got rough. Even inside ArcJet she didn’t waver, didn’t pull back at the sight of the synths. Vera was just as methodical as he was, ensuring that each room was checked with a near-brotherhood level of competency. During their trip through the ruin he didn’t have much time to focus on it, but once they were outside he allowed himself to process all he’d observed.

He found himself begrudgingly impressed with the civilian. While she might not look impressive (And as he thought that Vera spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva as if to reinforce the thought) her skill was real. It may have been presumptuous to offer to sponsor her into the Brotherhood but turning down talent because a person was uncouth would weaken them. Manners could be taught.

But it wasn’t to be, she turned him down with her usual brisk manner. “I appreciate you seeing that I’m not worthless, though.” Vera told him as she hacked another mouthful of blood and other bodily fluids onto the ground. “I’ve got my own thing to take care of.”

“The brotherhood could likely assist with that.” Danse surveyed the area around ArcJet for any hostiles that may have came near while they were clearing out the interior but found there to be no unusual movement. He nodded to her and she shouldered the rifle he’d given her before following after him. “We have many resources available and have far reaching influence.”

“Again: appreciated. Still going to refuse. I can’t focus on someone else’s cause when I’ve got my own.” She spoke to him differently than she had Preston, much more direct and with less sarcasm. Danse appreciated the dry presentation of facts.

They walked together in silence, Danse noting when her footsteps would stutter as she tripped over nearly anything in their path. He kept an eye out for possible places to rest for a few hours; while he himself would power through whatever was in his path he knew that Vera needed more RadAway and time to rest. She soldered through as he’d expect any Brotherhood member to, not voicing her discomfort and continuing on.

There’d been a dilapidated house nearer to the road than he would’ve liked, but it looked to be the best bet before they got back into the city limits. The chance for ghoul or raider attacks climbed rapidly then, and he didn’t want to test their chances. “This place looks defensible.”

Apparently she hadn’t noticed when he stopped to speak, because she continued on for a few more footsteps and nearly ran into him. Vera looked up at the partially collapsed house and looked to him. “I’ll defer to your knowledge here. Everything looks equally helpless to me.”

She sounds melancholy, her choice of words strikes him as odd. ‘Helpless’ opposed to anything else. There was no further discussion as they entered the house. It was eerie, but surprisingly sturdy. He checked the lower levels while she checked the upper, coming down to join him when he was having issues with a locked door.

“They don’t teach you Brotherhood types to pick locks?” Vera asks as she kneels before the door, fishing a bobby pin from under her head rag. It comes out with more hair than necessary, long and blonde. She flicks the hair off and starts to pick the lock.

Danse snorted and gingerly leaned against the wall, watching her work. He had a sudden flashback to Rivet City, watching Cutler working to pop open a lock before the city guards wandered past. “It would be unwise to not retrieve core technology because of a locked door. However, I don’t exactly have a soft enough hand to do it myself.”

Vera snorts and the door pops open and when she attempts to stand she goes back roughly to a knee. Danse moved to assist her, guiding her to a sturdy enough looking chair. He checked the rest of the basement for ghouls while she fumbled with the RadAway.

Between her shaking and the puncture-filled state of her skin it looked like she was having trouble finding a vein. Danse exited his power armer, causing her to look up in surprise. “Allow me to help.” He says briskly, reaching for her hand.

She gives a little laugh and allows him to find a vein. “God knows I can’t hit anything smaller than an artery right now.” Vera leans back in the chair as Danse tacks the bag up to the wall. “Preston says it’ll get easier, all I know is that it had better. If I have to deal with this shit for the rest of my life, I’m going to just go out with a blast.”

“Radiation sensitivity varies from person to person, though it can be raised through medical means. Perhaps you should try investing in a containment suit.” A set of power armor would do wonders as well, he felt near invincible in his own even if it didn’t entirely protect him from rads.

Still, it was curious that she was susceptible enough to basic radiation in the commonwealth. His Geiger counter hadn’t registered anything too dangerous during their trip to Arcjet and unless the water she’d drank from her canteen was heavily irradiated she shouldn’t be that affected. A few other possibilities came to mind: because her accent wasn’t quite like the few natives he’d heard she may be from outside the commonwealth, perhaps somewhere with less native radiation. There was still quite a lot of atmospheric radiation that came north from the glowing sea. There was always the possibility she was a vault dweller as well.

“Preston tells me they cost more caps than I have, so the point’s moot.” Her eyes remain closed as she leans back, resting while the RadAway does it’s job. Danse stands and explores the basement, finding a few gems. Some ammo, a few research stations (If he remembers right, there’d been a large greenhouse nearby. Perhaps agricultural?) and he hits gold in the bathroom when he finds a bottle of RadX. While their supplies at the station could always use more, his companion needs it more urgently.

“Ugh, mind if I steal the room?” Vera’s voice surprises him and he jerks around quickly to face her. She’s unpinned the bag from the wall and holds it as high as she can manage, a found bucket in the other hand. 

“Of course.” He shuffles out of the bathroom quickly to give her privacy, bottle still in hand. While she’s occupied he rolls out her bedroll, mostly to keep himself busy. He’s never done well underground and even this basement makes him feel queasy.

When Vera exits the bathroom she quietly thanks him for the courtesy and sits, pulling out supplies from her pack. She offers him some of the jerky and he politely refuses: He has his own supplies. “Though, you should have this.” He says, offering her the RadX. Her face brightens as she takes it, popping two tablets out and crushing them between her teeth.

“I insist you take this, then.” Vera pulls a second canteen from her bag, branded with Vault Tec logos and the number ‘111’. That puts another tally in the ‘Vault Dweller’ category. Danse settles beside his power armor and indulges her by taking a drink. The water is clean and purified and lacks any acrid taste. So she hadn’t been drinking irradiated water. A second tally was added to ‘vault dweller’.

They sit in silence together, Danse listening for any sounds of an attack. Vera pulls her rag head covering off and drags a hand through what’s left of her hair. It’d been past her shoulders once though now it was uneven and thin, clumps falling out due to her radsick state. Even gently combing her fingers through it pulled out clumps. When she uses the bathroom again he can hear the soft snipping of scissors through the broken door.

Her hair’s been snipped as close to the scalp as she could manage when she returns, making a beeline for her sleeping bag. “Wake me up for watch.” She tells him, cocooning herself in it.

Danse gives another little noncommittal noise, sitting on the ground between her and his power armor, staring at the door he’d reinforced. If anything came at them he’d have ample time to get into his suit. Resting in it would waste the core. That knowledge didn’t make him feel any less exposed, even in this underground mess.

He’s aware that Vera is inch-worming herself closer to him and, with a roll of his eyes, he raises an arm up. She takes the invitation and scoots up to him. “M’always cold.” She mumbles, burrowing her face back down into the sleeping bag.

“I’m generally warm. The power armor retains heat.” It also provided a barrier against everything with the downside of occasionally making him feel isolated even in a room full of his brothers. But here in this basement, with no eyes and no brothers to remind him that he was acting improper, he could share close space with another person.

“At least the brotherhood teaches you how to bathe.” Vera mumbles, sounding halfway to sleep already. “I like Preston and Sturges but God Almighty, soap must be in short supply in this rad-festering hellhole.”

He laughed a little at that. “Can you imagine the stench of forty men in power armor crammed into a small space? Hygiene is not optional in the Brotherhood.” 

He allows her to sleep for a few hours before jostling her awake. She’s ready to take her watch but he assures her that he’s fine to go. The trip back into Cambridge is miraculously simple. When they approach the barricades around the Police station Danse spots a familiar cowboy hat manning them.

Vera stays silent until they’re inside the secured walls but once the gate is closed behind her she runs to Preston. “Did it go well?”

His grin is wide as he nods down at her. “Sanctuary is on the trade routes. The few traders I got ahold of were eager to start up trade with what we have to offer.” He tipped the hat to Danse and, after one last look around his vantage point, climbed down the ladder. “We should probably head back and fortify a bit, raiders always look for easy targets.”

Preston pats her back, then extends a hand towards Danse. “I told you. Take care of her and she’ll get you through anything.” Vera rolls her eyes as she heads towards the more northern gate. “First day I met her she waded into raiders to help me and my settlers, then killed a deathclaw with only a set of T45 and a mini gun.” Danse shook his hand and tossed the story away as wild exaggeration. 

Haylen would finish her story of how ‘Their Paladin’ met ‘The General’ by explaining how the two vanished off into the sunset like something out of a story. But there’d been no fanfare, just two wastelanders walking out into the wastes and heading north.


	2. Castle Crashers

Traders stopped by the station for the protection it offered, and the three brotherhood members gladly gave it in exchange for supplies. Haylen had managed to get a message back to the Prydwyn and they were told to fortify their position. The ship was on route.

One trader fixed the radio in the station in exchange for a safe night. The remnants of the recon squad would listen to it from time to time, the nervous DJ of Diamond City tell the news. Apparently the three of them were deemed commonwealth news. There’d been reports of their plight with the ghoul hoard, as well as the trip to ArcJet. Danse had been surly about that for a few days.

There were also radio reports about a Vault Dweller. One had been sighted making their way out of Vault 111, a vault that had never in noted history opened. Said vault dweller apparently founded the nearby settlement of Sanctuary. A day or so later there was an advertisement for Sanctuary and a familiar voice called to him through the Radio. 

No wonder the radiation had given her a hard time, if she’d lived her life in a vault. It made Danse respect her all the more, giving up a cushy life underground in the sanctuary of vault and coming topside. He wondered what had driven her up? Was the vault failing or had she grown tired of being underground. Just the thought of living his entire life in the darkness... It made Danse shudder.

Despite their best efforts of trading and providing a safe haven for travelers, their supplies were running dangerously low. They barely had safe drinking water for a week and were unable to make more since their purifier had broken. Truly, their group had been cursed the moment they set foot in the Commonwealth.

Food could be augmented or stretched, there were canned goods and occasionally radstags would wander near enough for a shot. But ammo and purified water were not so easily replaced. Danse wondered if he’d lose his last two squadmates.

He didn’t have much by way of currency, what little caps they’d found from scavenging had been spent quicker than he would’ve liked. It wasn’t like he could sell his own labor to the caravans, if he went out as a guard he’d put Rhys and Haylen at risk. Rhys didn’t even have his armor anymore. 

Danse could see the worry on Haylen’s face though she refused to voice it, noticed that Rhys got more and more irritable as their supplies dropped lower. It made him make an abrupt choice. “When the next transport comes I’m going to take it to Sanctuary and attempt to barter. If the radio is correct, that mercenary we hired is in charge of it. At bare minimum, I may find someone who can repair our purifier.” Rhys opened his mouth to argue and Danse silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I’m going to leave my armor with you, Rhys. Protect the station.”

There was a second, silent order that hung in the air. ‘Don’t die too.’ Rhys seemed to understand and he stood up a bit straighter and saluted, answering only with a quiet ‘Sir’.

The plan was the second thing to go right in the commonwealth, the first being the trip to ArcJet. If Danse were superstitious he might blame that on a certain radsick woman. He wasn’t, and he didn’t.

It wasn’t long of a trip, only a day, but it still worried him. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Rhys standing tall in his armor and Haylen standing at his side. Rhys was a damn good solder and Haylen was smart and brave and, god, he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

Sanctuary was a settlements started in an abandoned pre-war cul-de-sac. The metal framed houses were undergoing the process of having their weak points boarded up, there were small gardens and three large water purifiers in the river. It struck him as odd that all three were cobbled together with Vault-Tec labled parts.

A short tempered woman shooed him away to see Preston when he attempted to find that information from her, so he stalked off in the direction she’d indifferently gestured at. Danse heard her complaining to a nervous looking man that too many newcomers were coming in. How could they tell if they were Synths or not?

It was a sobering thought. Even this promising community could be easily destroyed from the inside out by the Institute. That’s why it was so important he succeed today and secure supplies for his small group. Every handhold they could dig out of this forsaken commonwealth was one more bastion of hope against the Institute.

Preston was found near the back of the settlement in one of the pre-war houses, sitting behind a desk and going over paperwork. He stood when Danse entered, likely to greet another new settler, though he was no less delighted to see the Paladin. “To what do I owe the visit, Paladin Danse?”

“Our post is running low on supplies, namely water since our purifier was broken. I was hoping to see if we could come to some sort of deal. We don’t have much by way of goods, but if there’s work to be done I am willing to assist.” He heard the echos of Rhys’ sneering ‘so we’re hiring mercenaries now?’. Who would have thought that he would be offering himself up as one?

“Yeah... I think we could definitely use you.” Preston looked at a few of the papers on his desk, humming under his breath. “Know anything about The Castle?”

Danse shook his head and Preston elaborated for him. “Pre-war it was Fort Independence. It used to be the headquarters for the Minutemen back in the forties. With how the Minutemen are expanding under our new General we’ve been tossing the idea around of clearing it, having a better base of operations. Sanctuary is nice and all, but I’d feel safer in the fort.”

“I can’t fault that logic.” Danse had heard about the Minutemen, and while he respected what they stood for he still viewed it as being a fool’s errand. “What would the terms be?”

“I’ll have to talk them over with the General, but she’s mentioned how a set of power armor would make her feel more secure taking the place back.” Preston shifted the papers around and picked up a makeshift notebook and pencil. “If you’ve got the purifier with you we’ll repair that as... Heh, let’s say a signing bonus.”

That was certainly an incentive. Preston lead him to a handyman working on a shack wall. “Sure, I can get this done, no problem.” He drawled, hitting Danse with a wicked smile. The handyman puttered off to his workshop to fulfill the order.

“Our General is indisposed at the moment, but when she’s free I’ll grab you and we can knock out the details.” Preston excused himself to return to his paperwork and that left Danse to wander around the town. The settlers were like you’d see everywhere, they weren’t interesting. There was only one person besides Preston that he wanted to see here, and she was nowhere to be found.

The nervous man was tending to some vegetables and softly talking to them when Danse approached. “O-oh, hello.... New?” He gives Danse his best shaky smile and tries to look friendly.

At least he doesn’t have to suffer for long. “I’m looking for Vera. Do you know where she might be?” It strikes him then that he doesn’t know her last name, just the first.

“Yeah, she’s up in the vault.” The nervous man points up above the town to a treeless plateau. Danse thanks him and heads to the path out of town, ignoring the man’s stammering “Oh, uh, you can’t-”

The lift down nauseates him, leaves him holding onto the guard rails. When the blast shield above rolls shut he’s left in momentary darkness and panic fills him. It abates slightly when the lights click on and he makes his way into the vault.

It’s wrong here, stuffed up and musty and long dead. Skeletons wearing labcoats have been shoved off to the side and the Vault looks as if it’s being picked for parts. But, if Vera were from this vault, a recent transplant to the commonwealth at that, how could it feel so dead?

There was no one down to ask for directions and it didn’t feel right to yell. The place felt like the grave. It feels like he’s been down in the darkness forever when he hears a soft murmuring. The tries to follow it from room to room, momentarily feeling like he’s losing his mind, before he turns down a hall and the echos get louder.

“-Promised me, you son of a bitch. You promised.” It’s Vera’s voice, the nervous man hadn’t been lying. Danse moves down the hallway with the flickering light and stands at the entrance to a strange room. Upright pods that put him in mind of the preservation shelters he’s seen downtown line the room. 

The only occupant of the room that he can see sits at the back in front of one of the pods on top of a bedroll. There were items scattered about, food and Nuka and a few vault canteens. Danse had the sudden feeling that she slept down here in this horrible quiet place, that she might fight and live in the sunny world above but this was where she came to rest.

When he stepped into the room all the hairs on his neck stood on end. The room was silent, and it was so cold. He’d claimed many times over the years to have never been cold; between his own body temperature and his power armor he was always running hot. But by the time he got to the first pod he was shivering. Looking into the pod did him no favors, it was frosted over but inside he could make out a man’s frozen face inside. Freezers with people in them?

“Most people do what I ask and leave me alone down here.” Vera mumbled from her nest in the freezing room. “What are you doing?”

“I...” It feels wrong to speak here, like he’s talking during a memorial service. “I took a caravan north. You weren’t in town.” He’s never felt more foolish than he does now.

She tips her head up and looks at him, but Danse doubts that she really sees him. They stare at each other in silence for a few minutes before Dance decides to try and make things less painfully awkward. “Uh... You look less irradiated.”

Truly, he was a wordsmith. The great masters of old would be jealous of his prowess.

Somehow the words have his intended affect and breaks the ice, so to speak. Vera sat up and patted the blankets by her feet. “Sit down.”

Danse does so and looks up at the freezer in front of him. He sees the face of a man turned to the side, and there’s blood splattered on the inside of the window. The others had all looked asleep. This man looks dead.

“Paladin Danse, I’d like to introduce you to my husband Nate. Nate, Danse. You’d be able to talk to him if you hadn’t gotten your stupid ass shot.” She gives a little shuddering laugh and wipes at her eyes. “I used to have a husband. I used to have a son. I had a life, a stupid, boring little life. And now I’ve got none of that.”

Oh, god. This was going to be one of those things that he was bad at. Like when Haylen approached him for comfort after mercy killing Worwick. Dance grimaced slightly and raised an arm slowly, hoping that he was doing the right thing. Vera made a little surprised hiccup when he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. “I’m sorry.”

She makes a noise then, a terrible whimper-wail that tears into him as she presses her face against his side. “I loved him.” She confides, fingers tightening in the fabric of his jumpsuit. “But now I’m just so angry because he died and left me alone. I know it wasn’t his fault, but-”

“Sometimes you wonder.” Danse blurted out, thinking of his lonely childhood, of Cutler. “They left. If... If they loved you like you loved them, wouldn’t they have tried harder to stay?”

“And you feel like shit for thinking that?” She breathes in shakily but doesn’t let go of her tight hold on his jumpsuit. “Because I know he couldn’t have done anything. I watched them unseal his pod and gun him down and take the baby. He was a good dad, Danse. He wouldn’t let some stranger take our son.”

She falls silent after that and Danse sits on the cold floor with an arm wrapped around her. “How...” He breaks the silence again, can’t stand how it presses in on them. “You were... Frozen?”

“They told us they were decontamination pods. The bombs had just fallen. The vaults were never meant to save anyone.”

This conversation would get filed away to deal with later (She was claiming to be pre-war? There were so many implications for that.) when he had the time to properly process everything. For now, though, he had to figure out how to fix this situation.

“I...” He speaks slowly, chooses his words carefully. In battle he has no issues with acting but in social situations his brain always seizes up, he can never say the right things. “I won’t insult you by pretending to understand how badly you’re hurting. But it’s very cold and... No good comes from being underground.”

Great. Good job, Danse. Truly your skills in oration leave nothing to be desired.

Vera doesn’t dignify that with a response for a few minutes, but she eventually pulls back and wipes at her face. “You’re right. I’ve mourned enough for today. C’mon.” She rises to her feet and before Danse can as well she pats his head, threading her fingers affectionately through his hair. “Thanks.”

His mouth goes dry and the only response he can give is a nod. Danse scrambles to his feet and follows her out of the silent Vault. It isn’t till he’s on the lift and can see sunlight again that he can speak. “So... Do you sleep down here? Alone?”

“Sometimes.” Vera looked up at the sky and fiddled with her pip boy. “When the world gets overwhelming. I know we’ll finish dismantling the vault and I’ll have to bury everyone and I hope by then I’ll be able to stand on my own.”

“You will.” Of that Danse had no doubts. She struck him as a singularly determined woman. They stepped off the lift and started down the dirt path down to Sanctuary. He momentarily admired how clean everything was, but with a settlement just south it made sense that everything possible would be picked and used for building or barriers. “I know this will be hard to believe, but even I need to fall back to a safe spot to recuperate sometimes. Don’t... Think negatively because you do as well.”

His room on the Prydwen was his sanctuary, snack cakes and NukaChery under the bed and any book that he could find stored on shelves. Whenever the mess hall was too busy or the recreation areas were too full he’d hole himself away in his room. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t like his Brothers or that he couldn’t deal, just that sometimes it was too much.

Vera patted his chest and even through the fabric of his jumpsuit the touch burned. He could feel her hand on him even when she pulled it away. “Thank you, Paladin. I appreciate that. But don’t worry.” Her smile is mischievous. “The one thing I don’t view negatively in this hellhole is myself.”

Preston meets them at the gates of Sanctuary, pulling himself a little taller at their approach. “General. I see the Paladin couldn’t wait to talk things over?”

It takes a lot of self restraint to not pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, because of course Vera is the General that makes Preston glow when he speaks of her. Of course. That’s how his luck runs. “I like men who show initiative, Preston. Let’s meet up in your office.”

It’s clear to Danse at least that Vera has no idea why they’re meeting at first but she gets Preston to explain without asking him. “Castle has been overtaken by Mirelurks since the 40’s. Since then the Minutemen have been in decline: We lost our radio station, our base, our leadership.”

“The place is overrun and scouts report movement in the ground that would indicate a queen lurking.” Vera added, sitting on the corner of Preston’s desk and looking at the man’s notes. “Ideally I don’t want to be face to face with that in my usual style. I’ve got a thing against being severed in half.”

“Understandable.” Preston’s notes were thorough. There were old diagrams of the Castle, ways to enter, scout reports, whatever they could need. His work would do a Scribe proud. “Five sided base, entry from the west. What other hostiles should we expect?”

Preston shifted papers around and, yes, he even had a report of activity in the area. So thorough, he was being wasted by this ragtag group. “A few pockets of raiders, we’ll have to watch our path so we don’t run into super mutants. Once we get to the Castle Mirelurks will be our only worry.”

“There’s also the matter of payment.” Vera adds, picking up Preston’s notebook. “I see that Sturges is fixing your purifier. We were going to offer water delivery so that fills in even. In return for assisting us we’ll provide ammo as well as a fusion core for the use of your armor in addition to whatever scrap you’ll need to make repairs. As payment for your skills we’re also prepared to share crops.”

That was.. remarkably fair. “My only reservation is that I’ll be leaving my squadmates alone with no power armor. Rhys is using my set to protect the station.”

Vera nodded and looked to Preston. “Do we have any recruits who can be trusted to man a guard tower?”

“Yup. Barnes and Wilson are new but know not to shoot themselves in the foot. Give them something to stand behind and they’ll defend it.” Preston didn’t even have to look at a roster. “We could spare Mina and Sam too, they need the experience.”

Everything settled quickly. The four recruits packed up a wagon and set off south with him. While Rhys visibly was annoyed by the presence of the four green Minutemen recruits the supplies and fixed purifier were reason enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

It was a good exercise for the recruits. Sam froze the first time Ferals charged their defenses but pulled himself together by the end of the firefight. After that Danse started regular drills and they responded well. They were young and had a desperate need to protect their homes and families from all the wasteland could throw at them. 

A second Sanctuary wagon stopped in a few days later, surrounded by Minutemen with Preston taking the rear and Vera taking point. He can’t stop the flush that spreads on his face when he realizes she’s holding the gun he’d given her. Mina and Wilson are on guard duty when they show up and call down greetings to them.

“You little shits aren’t making me look bad?” Vera called up, earning herself a resounding call of ‘No ma’am!’ in response. She chuckles to herself as Danse walks past the barricade to join them. “Paladin.”

Danse has never been more glad that to be wearing a helmet than he was then, in addition to the flushed face he knew he was grinning like a loon. “General.”

Vera snickered, tugging the cowboy hat she wore a little lower over her face. “I never get tired of getting called that. If you’d like to preserve power there’s space on the wagon.”

“Not necessary, but appreciated.”

They take the ruined roads west of the station and go south, working their way through packs of raiders and ghouls and all other manner of nasty things. In quiet moments Vera tells him her story: Living pre war, married with a young son. Her eyes unfocus when she tells about how they just barely made it to the vault in time, how she’d felt the bomb hit and saw the mushroom cloud bloom. “The blast was so close I could feel the wind blow. I remember Nate turned his back to it, we held Shaun between us.”

It was a tall tale, but with the evidence he had it made sense. Her odd accent, her knowledge of past, the lone empty open pod in the vault. “We were all so shell shocked, they ushered us into a room and gave us the suits, then said we needed to be decontaminated. I didn’t argue; we’d just witness a nuclear blast. It made sense. Then it was just so cold.”

She tells him about waking up the first time when they stop for a break. Still trapped, unable to escape no matter how hard she’d beaten on the glass. Watching her husband’s pod be opened, the struggle for possession of her child that ended abruptly with a gunshot. “Before they refroze me that bastard came up to the glass. Called me ‘the backup’.” Vera pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and lit one up before offering the pack to Danse. He refused and she tucked it back into the pocket. “I’m going to find him and I’m going to beat his face in.”

“If you need any assistance at all...” Danse offers in a heartbeat, making her smile up at him.

His stomach flutters at a mere smile from this woman. This is ridiculous. He isn’t a child nor a teenager, having a woman be friendly shouldn’t send him into a twitterpatted state. But his heart beats fast when she pats the shoulder of his armor.

“Thank you, Danse. I appreciate it. Nick, a detective from Diamond City, is looking into it. I’ll let you know when he comes back with anything.” She tells him bits and pieces about how she’d met the detective in yet another vault, but the story was interrupted when Castle loomed on the horizon.

Scouts went ahead and came back quickly. “Just like the reports. Heavy mirelurk infestation.” Various ideas for taking the Castle were proposed, the final decision was to have the heavily armed people on the foreground and those better with long range towards the rear and they’d draw the mirelurks to their guns.

“Danse, mind giving me a hand with this?” Vera called from the back of their supply wagon. “I need someone to stabilize it while I get in.” Danse didn’t know what he was expecting when he came back but a set of T45 with claw gashes in the torso and helm wasn’t it. Danse did as he was bade, holding the suit firmly while she powered it up and climbed in.

Even if the suit was worn and scratched and he could see through the ruined helmet to her face, Danse was even more impressed seeing her in the set of armor than he was before. “That suits you, General.”

Vera picks up the mini gun and he guesses she’s grinning from the way one eye is crinkling. “Thanks, Paladin. It’s no T60 but it’ll do.”

They lure the mirelurks out with moltovs and grenades and they skitter right into the kill zone. One of the minutemen calls out a warning that they’ll have to go closer to destroy eggs, otherwise they risk a small swarm. Hatchlings might not be dangerous in batches of one or two, but Mirelurks have had forty years to infest the Castle. 

Once all of the large visible targets are down they move into the courtyard to attack the nests. Several are cleared with no problems, but once they destroy several nest there comes a roar from the harbor and something large starts their way.

“The queen!” The queen was monstrous, towering above the walls of the castle. Her roar caused two of the minutemen to freeze in their spots, staring up at the mutated monster. 

The fear was understandable. They were insects beside her and didn’t even have armor to protect themselves. But they didn’t have to worry about attracting the queen’s ire, because Vera had hefted her minigun and was dashing towards the queen.

“HEY. HEY GIRL, HEY.” She yelled firing a few bursts from the gun. The queen turned in her direction. “LEMMIE GET THAT NUMBER, GIRL. HEY. GIRL.” The word choice was odd, perhaps some forgotten song or something?

“This is just like the deathclaw incident.” Preston mumbled, jogging up to Danse. “C’mon, I doubt she can get lucky twice.” 

Danse took off at his top speed towards the queen that was rapidly closing the distance between herself and Vera. Preston vaulted on top of the remains of some shack in the middle of the courtyard and fired a few shots into her shell. Danse continued forward and threw himself shoulder first into the beast.

The superior weight of the T60 armor was enough to knock the queen sideways, and he managed to roll out of the way before she swiped at him. The queen focused on him for a moment, but that was enough for Vera to fire a few seconds long blast of her minigun into the monster’s face.

“What are you doing?!” Danse cried out, shoving himself to his feet and dashing after the queen. He had to get around to her front, or the sides, anywhere that he could actually hit her soft underbelly as opposed to the shell. If anyone was going to play ‘draw off the monster mirelurk’ it should be him, his T60 was in every way superior to her damaged T45.

Vera was dashing backwards as fast as she could, still firing her minigun. “I’ve got it!” Her words were instantly proven wrong as the Mirelurk swiped at her, making her yelp and roll out of the way. The queen paused and raised her claws in the air, lunging for the General.

“Not today, mutant!” Danse growled, diving at the Mirelurk’s legs. He managed to catch the two back ones on the right side and his weight snapped them off. The queen stumbled sideways and tripped over Danse, dragging him a bit when she flopped on her side. Vera was already on her feet, firing at the unprotected belly of the queen. Dance grabbed his gun and did the same, shots from Preston came over their shoulders.

The mirelurk screamed and flailed, trying to sit up. The combined destructive power of two miniguns and a lazer musket tore through her underbelly and the gore that it unleashed was disgusting. Danse was very glad to have his helmet on.

They didn’t stop firing until the corpse stopped twitching. Behind him the minutemen solders cheered and Preston stood tall on his perch. He looked so proud of what they’d accomplished.

“We’re going to be eating crab for months.” Vera griped, limping over to Danse. “Feel free to take some of this back to your squad.” She removes her helmet and grins out at the destruction that they’ve wrought, face flushed with exertion.

Now that they’re safe and the danger has passed, Danse is surprised with how angry he is at her foolhardy approach to battle. “You could have gotten yourself killed.” He hisses while he takes off his helmet. “Why did you rush in?”

The brilliant, wild smile on her face abruptly fades. “I could ask you the same question, Paladin, or are we going to neglect how you rushed in?” Her voice drops in a way he’s never heard before, she’s as authoritative as he’s ever heard Ingram or even Maxson. “I wasn’t aware accepting your help meant I was going to be lectured in saving my men.”

There’s a look in her eyes that is utterly vicious. She leans in close and while he wouldn’t have cared about that in other situations, he’s not too fond of it when she looks like her next move is going to be to tear into his throat. “I will do anything to save my men, Paladin Danse-”

Before she can go any further hands clap on their shoulders. Preston leans in between them, a grin plastered over his face. “Behave in front of the children.” He hisses between his teeth before saying in a much louder voice. “Boy, that was close there for a minute, huh?”

“Sure was!” Vera chirped, still glaring at Danse. “But, boy, am I glad our friend from the Capital pitched in!”

Oh, that’s how they were going to play it? Danse could see the Minutemen forces nearby watching them. Preston was right, while he was angry about her lack of self care when it came to rushing in, there was no use in fighting in front of the men. “The Brotherhood is happy to assist, General. May this be the start of a fruitful partnership in the Commonwealth.”

“I’m grateful for your support. Would you assist me in assuring the tunnels are clear?” Vera smiled wide and spoke through gritted teeth. “Men, please work on clearing any lingering mirelurk eggs. Preston, can you get the radio running and message in for help with butchering the carcasses?”

The men did as told and Preston stood by with his fake smile until they were fully out of earshot. “Listen, you two do you in the tunnels, but don’t let them hear you fighting. Let’s not demoralize them after we just had a damn important victory.”

“Understood.” Danse can understand Preston’s motivations. “General, if you will accompany me?”

“I’d be delighted, Paladin. Allow me to exit my power armor.” The limp was gone when she did exit, there was obviously something wrong with the suit’s mobility. Down into the Castle they went. “And you have a lot of nerve starting to lecture me when you tackled the queen twice.”

“You’re not stupid, you know that the T60 is superior to your T45. If anyone was going to be drawing it out it should’ve been me. You could’ve came in with your better mobility and-”

Vera snorted and grabbed his arm, dragging him down a bit to miss a pipe hanging from the ceiling. “And, what, leave you to dodge those disgusting eggs it was going to throw with your bulky ass frame? I can dance around it all day!”

“With a leg that malfunctioned midway through the battle, sure you could have.”

The little general made a big show of rolling her eyes back, then tipping her upper half backwards to show just how disgusted she was with him. “I could handle it. It tosses me, I had you for backup to pull it off. I was trusting you, dickhead. Those boys didn’t have the luxury of being able to survive a toss like I could. It got to any of them they were dead. I’m not gonna stand by and watch people who’ve got their faith in me die when I can stop it.”

That resounds with him, hurts inside as he thinks of the men he’s gotten killed in the commonwealth. “I... I apologize for my outburst.” He says briskly and formally, making her look surprised. “I was just... Seeing that thing go after you made me worry. I regard you highly already and it would be a waste to see you die here.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I made you worry.” She reaches up to pat his shoulder, then stretches to her tiptoes to pat his cheek. As always, the touch feels like a brand against his skin and he blushes. “That wasn’t my intent. We should have had a better talk about strategy before the battle and I could’ve explained it. I worked with my battalion so long they knew what I would do.”

Echoing through the courtyard they can hear the start of Radio Freedom playing after years. It was likely the signal couldn’t reach far yet, but Danse caught sight of Preston standing beside the central tower as they passed a door frame. “You’ve accomplished a lot for the Minutemen in a short amount of time. You should be proud.”

Vera snorts and smirks, giving his cheek another pat before stretching her arms out in front of her. “It’s thanks to Preston, really. He’s not what one would call a leader, but goddamn you give the man a task and he can organize anything. Did you see that pile of notes he has in Sanctuary? He’s like that about everything. I think he honestly, genuinely enjoys being a desk jockey.”

“Some men are suited for that, like leading suits you.” 

“First you yell at me, now you’re complimenting me? You know how to keep a girl on her toes.” She walks ahead of him and Danse is glad, because now she can’t see just how red his face is. “Preston said that there should be a General’s quarters around here somewhere. If we can find it, and it’s not trashed, we’ve got a space to rest for the night.”

After they finish their rounds of the Castle’s tunnels they check different doors. The general’s quarters is locked, but Vera easily picks it with a bobby pin stored on the band of her hat. The room is dusty and smells of disuse, but there’s no major destruction. “There’s even a bathroom. Not like the pipes work anyway, but...” Vera sighs and checks the taps anyway. To both of their great surprise the water turns on, though it’s wickedly cold. Vera tests the shower and finds that it too runs, though it needs time to run through years of disuse. The water has the distinct smell of the sea. “I don’t care how cold it is, I want a real shower. You want to beat some of the dust out of that mattress?”

Danse eyed the bed then looked towards the bathroom where Vera sat beside the shower and watched the water fall. “I can sleep elsewhere, there’s quite a lot of room.”

“I sleep better when someone’s around. Preston’s going to be manning the radio until he gets what’s-his-face briefed. Even if we had a spat we’re still friends, right?”

He didn't answer her with words; he figured that the beeping his armor made as he exited it was answer enough. Danse pulled the blankets from the bed and shook out decades of dust and debris from them before smacking the bed to dislodge dust. As he held his breath against the dust he heard a muffled yelp come from the shower, followed shortly by a muttered 'Ah, Jesus.'. It seemed that the General was now thinking twice about her quick decision to jump in the water and he laughed to himself.

There was a treasure trove of preserved books in varying bookshelves along the walls, and he settled in a chair with one waiting for her to finish up. Vera kept her shower as brief as any he'd expect from someone with a military background, but she didn't emerge immediately. He found himself getting lost in the book, an account of the young America declaring it's independence from British rule.

“I’m going to report to Preston and grab supplies off the wagon.” Vera's words as she exited the bathroom, short hair still damp from her shower and sticking up in various points, startled him back to the present. It took him longer than he would admit to pull himself together; the book had been fascinating and he was more tired than he would admit. She seemed to take pleasure in his momentary confusion, the impish smile that was becoming familiar covered her face. Danse put the book down and followed after her to grab his own bag from the wagon.

“Everything’s clear in the tunnels. Picked my way into the General’s quarters, the water even works. You got the generators working, then?” Vera asked Preston, eyeing the setup he had going for Radio Freedom.

He looked pleased with himself, showing the other minuteman how to run the radio. “Everything was in surprisingly good condition. I bet if you looked into it you’d be able to get the water heater working again.” 

Vera sighed at that thought. “I’d do absolutely filthy, unspeakable things to whomever could get me hot water.” She said wistfully.

Preston raised his eyebrows at Danse, giving them a little waggle. Danse stared him down and said in the flattest voice he could manage. “I also would do filthy, unspeakable things to whomever could get me hot water.”

The General hadn’t seen Preston’s goading of Danse but she turned when he started choking with laughter. She observed Preston for a moment before patting him on the hat and assuring him: “It’s okay, Preston, it’s been a long day.”

“Seriously, though.” Danse said to Vera. “I’m going to look into that.”

Vera winked at him and promised: “Filthy things, remember.”

As Danse walked away he overheard Preston, who had finally stopped laughing and managed to catch his breath, telling Vera that Nick had called through the HAM radio. 

The actual issue with the water heater was simple to fix, just an issue with wiring and soon the one providing to the General’s room was working fine. Everyone else would have to wait or fix the main one themselves.

Vera had sat up both of their sleeping bags on the dusty bed and had a few bowls of what he assumed to be Mirelurk stew waiting on the table. It wasn’t bad, at least it was fresh. “Would you like to do the honors?” He asked, tipping his head to the showers. Vera paused midway through scooping another spoonful of the stew up to her mouth.

“Did you get it working?” She asked, grinning at his nod. “Whelp. I guess I owe you filthy things.”

“I haven’t had a hot shower since leaving the Prydwen. I assure you, I didn’t fix the heater to win your charms.” He scraped the bowl clean and put it back on the table.

Vera picked the bowl up and nodded to the bathroom. “You get the first shower, then. I’ll take care of this and take second shower?”

Danse nodded and grabbed his kit from his bag and shut himself in the bathroom. Mindful that despite his fix the heater still could blow (The thing was ancient, after all) he kept the shower brief. After the shower he trimmed his beard in the mirror before returning to the bedroom. “I found towels. Dusty, but serviceable.”

“You’re a gentleman and a saint.” Vera hopped up off the bed and snuck around him into the bathroom. He picked up the book he’d been reading before, one on the history of Boston, and settled on the bed. He read by candlelight until Vera left the bathroom and crawled into her sleeping bag beside him.

She was out seconds after her head hit the pillow, snoring slightly. Danse snickered to himself and read a bit more before putting the book down. He was nearly asleep himself before his brain gave him an interesting tidbit of information: He could smell his soap on his own skin, but he could smell it on hers, too. She smelled like the brotherhood.

He had a bit of trouble falling asleep after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General's room is stolen right from the gorgeous mod by Elianora on the Nexus.
> 
> 6/3/18- A few edits made for continuity and changing a weird POV shift that has bothered me since forever.


	3. Patience is a virtue and a little won't hurt you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has kind of turned into my nano project.

He isn’t sure what wakes him but whatever it is does it slowly, there’s no jerking to attention or being prepared for battle. Danse just feels calm and warm and content to just lay there a bit more. 

There’s a sigh nearby, the bed shifts and there’s a weight on his neck that slips up into his beard. A second sigh, this one seems happy, and that’s all it takes to wake Danse fully. Vera’s moved in her sleep, wormed her way over to throw an arm around his torso. She seems comfortable and Danse is loathe to move.

While he knew he as an excellent member of the brotherhood Danse was also well aware that he wasn’t what anyone would call a people person. He thinks that people like him, or at least know that they can rely on him. It isn’t often that he has someone close like this, however. It’s nice.

Still: inappropriate. If Vera had the same sort of feelings that he had growing then she would voice them. Danse couldn’t see her acting coy, she was much more the type to knock him over the head and drag him home. It felt perverse to him to enjoy the accidental contact.

Carefully grasping her wrist, he lifted her arm and moved it from himself before wriggling out of his sleeping bag. Vera looked peaceful and deep asleep, her free hand now curled beside her face. He momentarily envied that not only could she apparently fall asleep in minutes but also sleep through being jostled. Since coming to the Commonwealth he’d sleep poorly or not at all, save for just now. 

Danse walked down the steps and stretched in the little seating area, looking over his power armor. It needed repairs, but he didn’t dare with the General sleeping. Besides, trying to repair power armor without a support frame was asking for trouble.

Once he let himself out of the quarters and walked out into the courtyard Danse found himself surprised. Where yesterday the place had been filled with mirelurk corpses and decades of built up debris it now was swarming with people. Settlers hauled scrap out and piled anything usable for sorting, others had dragged the mirelurks towards the shore for butchering and disposal. Another group looked to be transplanting mutfruit bushes. All around him was swirling activity as the Minutemen reclaimed their base.

Preston’s overseeing everything and if the man’s slept at all Danse would eat the queen mirelurk by himself. He looks good, though: despite his obvious exhaustion he looks fulfilled. It was a look that Danse frequently saw on Brotherhood members after a successful battle. Preston clearly felt the same way about his organization that Danse did about the Brotherhood.

“Have a good night?” Preston asked cheekily, again waggling his eyebrows at Danse. 

That earned him Danse’s best glare, the one he saved for idiot recruits and for when Rhys was being insubordinate. “The insinuation is disrespectful to your General.” Either his glare was losing it’s potency or Preston was immune because he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “However, I would call several hours of uninterrupted sleep to be ‘a good night’.”

“Oosh, now I’m jealous.” The grin faded and the... What would his rank be? Assistant? Lieutenant? Whatever he was, he looked sober. “Did she sleep?”

Past problems, perhaps? His mind flashed back to the dead vault and her sleeping bag in the frozen room. “Within a minute of being horizontal and she was still asleep when I left.”`

“Good.” Preston breathes a little easier, figuratively and literally. “I think she sleeps less than I do, and that’s saying something. Thanks again for the help and providing her backup. We can’t afford to lose her.”

“I understand.”

Danse attempted to busy himself around the Castle until Vera woke, at which he went back to her quarters and did maintenance on his armor. That occupied him for some time, repairing the armor had never been a chore. It was enjoyable to hunt down any malfunction and restore it to working condition. And it made him feel invincible, walking around in a suit he had full confidence in, like he could take on the whole damn Commonwealth.

The armor makes him feel secure when he puts it on and goes in search of the General. Walking by the radio station he sees Preston asleep in his chair while his trainee was manning the station. Minutemen and civilians point him down the path to the General, who he finds speaking to a man in a worn out trench coat and gas mask.

He isn’t privy to the conversation and hangs back, not wanting to intrude. Vera and the stranger speak for some time before she throws her arms around him in an embrace. Danse grits his teeth and fights down at a wave of something he doesn’t want to admit is jealousy. The stranger pats her back with one hand, then pulls back a little and apparently says something to her because she turns and spots Danse.

The pair walk towards him and Vera wears a smile so bright it almost hurts to look at. “Danse, this is Nick. Commonwealth’s finest detective. He’s looking into a matter for me.”

Nick shuffled his feet a bit and chuckled, the sound oddly distorted through the mask. He held out his left hand, the right one still in his pocket. “Nice t’put a face to the stories she’s been tellin’ me. S’pose you’ve got the suit for tacklin’ mirelurks.” Nick’s accent was as odd as the man himself but Danse shook the offered hand.

“Where are you from, civilian?” He could swear that the man’s eyes were yellow under that gas mask, the skin around them looked odd. Some kind of mutation?

“Aah, all over. Came from northwest in the tribals. Got an Aunt in Southie. Sorry t’cut this short, but I need t’get back to Diamond City.” He turns more towards Vera then. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find th’last bit.”

Vera hugged him again, tight as she could manage. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Anytime.” Nick sounded fond, tipping his hat down at her over his mask as he walked back. “You need anything, Paladin, stop by Diamond City.”

Danse grunted and suspiciously watched the man until Vera elbowed his side. She looked disapproving. “Hey.”

“What do you know about that man?” Danse couldn’t shake the feeling he had that something about Nick Valentine was wrong. 

Vera didn’t take his well-meant questioning as he meant and snipped back: “I know he’s looking into my husband’s murder and son’s kidnapping.”

Outwardly Danse continued to glower. Inside the only coherent thought his mind could form was an aghast ‘what have you done’. He desperately thought of a way to extract himself from this conversation while adequately expressing worry for her but not treating her if she was unable to make her own decisions. All he was able to come up with was a croaked: “Understood.”

That seems to be the correct response: Vera’s shoulders relax and she smiles again. “He’s got a pretty good lead. Didn’t want to risk being overheard.” She looks hopeful as she toys with the flimsy chain worn around her neck. “What did you need, Danse?”

He needed to ensure that the promised supplies were being delivered and to arrange transport. What he asked for, however, was: “If you need any assistance when Nick has found the lead, please contact me.”

For a moment her eyes seemed to be welling up and Danse wanted to desperately beg her not to cry. Vera pulls herself together and stands on tiptoe to pat his cheek. “Thank you, Danse. Now, c’mon. We’ve got shipments to make sure are heading to Haylen and gotta find you transport.”

The Minutemen held up their end of the bargain and by the time that Danse returned to their outpost supplies had beat him there. The deliveries were ample, which was fortunate because two of the minutemen recruits asked to stay. They’d liked what they saw in the Brotherhood. Danse was willing to bet caps that was Haylen.

“Poaching my recruits, huh?” Vera asked, amused in a HAM conversation. The radio at the station worked sometimes, and Vera tended to be in Sanctuary or Castle, both well within range. “I’m glad they’re performing well for you. Honestly, I hope when more of your type comes to the ‘wealth we can continue to work this way.”

“What, funneling off recruits more suited to the other?” Kells would hate that, losing fighting ready men to a group of farmers and pitchforks. The idea was attractive, though: the Minutemen were established in the Commonwealth already. Many of the settlements he’d seen sported their flag and had a few guards posted with beaten down cowboy hats. It made more sense logistically to work with that.

The new recruits fell into step with his patrol and Danse was surprised to see Rhys taking a role in their training. He wasn’t nurturing by any means, but he was stern and provided any information that they needed. It made Danse proud.

It also made him realize that the team didn’t need him every minute of every day. They were holding firm and Danse knew that the Minutemen would help if absolutely necessary. He made the decision to go to Diamond city to scout, as well as to check in on that detective. Something about him didn’t sit well with Danse and if Vera was entrusting her personal issues to the man he wanted to investigate.

If he proved trustworthy there was always the matter of the Lost Patrol to put by him.

Seeing the civilians of Diamond City clustered together in the ancient arena sat badly with Danse: There were so many buildings around that they should be able to claim. But the area was rife with mutants and synths and ghouls, no wonder they had to cower in the stands. 

The city guard was wary but not unhelpful and pointed him on the way. “If you’re okay with Nicky, you’re okay with me.” The alley was lit by a fluorescent sign that read ‘Valentine Detective Agency’, an easy enough trail to find. Danse barely fit through the door in his armor and he wasn’t about to take it off, so there was an awkward moment where he had to shuffle in sideways.

An attractive young woman manned the front desk and had watched the entire procedure of him fitting in the door with amusement. She leans her elbows on the desk and twines her fingers together, resting her chin on both hands. “Hmm. You must be Paladin Danse. Vera’s told us about you.” She answers his question before he can ask it. “Are you looking for her?”

“I was actually looking for the detective.” Danse shifted his weight a bit, starting to feel awkward under her scrutiny.

“Oh. Huh. Nick’s out and about town. If you’d like to wait I can go find him?” She stood and squeezed past him without waiting for a response, leaving Danse alone in the agency.

The secretary takes around ten minutes to return, the chatty guard from the gate with her. Follwing after her is-

“Synth.” How can they not know it’s right there? Are people in Diamond City stupid?

The receptionist moves in front of the Synth, the guard’s hand goes to his rifle but he looks nervous. “Yeah, I thought this would happen.” She sighed, not moving from her protective spot in front of the Synth. “Paladin Danse, this is Nick Valentine.”

The synth stares at him with those unblinking glowing yellow eyes and reaches up to tip his hat to Danse. The hand is metal and skeletal, and- “Y’see why I wore the mask, huh?” He drawls slowly and the voice sets Danse even more on edge. A machine had no business sounding that human.

“Yeah, uh, Mister Brotherhood o’steel man, this is our Nicky. He’s good people. Well, yenno, synth people.” The guard stood taller and squared his shoulders and even if he trembled he still stared Danse in the eye. “You wanna have a problem with Nicky, you’re gonna have a problem with Diamond City.”

Danse looks from the receptionist to the guard, then back to the silent synth behind them. “I can’t believe you’re protecting this abomination.”

The receptionist crosses her arms and stares up at Danse, not an ounce of fear on her face. “Believe it.” She states stoutly. “And if your General was here she’d be in our spot too. So how about you calm down, sit down, and talk to Nick about why you’re here. Or do I need to call Vera on the radio?”

Danse was beginning to suspect that his crush on the General wasn’t as hidden as he thought it was, which was a mortifying line of thought that he didn’t want to start. “...Fine.” Danse stepped back towards one of the desks. Chatty guard talked to Nick for a moment before clapping it on the arm and leaving. The synth pulled a packet of cigarettes from it’s pocket and lit one up, going to sit behind the desk. The receptionist picked up a pad of paper and a pencil and glared at Danse.

“So. What can I do ya for?” The synth drawled, leaning back in it’s chair languidly. Really, it was a fascinating if disturbing machine. Danse had destroyed plenty of the mechanical ones, but none had ever had that artificial spark of life that this one had.

“I knew there was something wrong about you.” He can’t help but gloat a bit.

It snorted and rolled it’s eyes. “And they call me a detective. What tipped ya off, the plastic hand under the glove or the yellow eyes? You gonna tell me why you came or just stand there?” It sounded annoyed, and further irritated Danse that a machine could sound annoyed.

“I’ve got nothing to ask from a Synth.” Danse said simply, turning to leave from the agency. His only regret was that the Synth was going to see him squeeze out of the door the same way the receptionist had.

“Uh-huh.” It snorted. “Ellie, we got those reports of Brotherhood sightings from a few years back, right?”

Danse stopped in his tracks.

“Yeah, we should?” The receptionist, Danse assumes Ellie is her name, puts down her pad of paper and starts pulling out various drawers.

The synth leans over the desk and regards Danse. “People in the commonwealth notice things. I get reports of strange happenings. And I figure, you’re either here to gimmie the third degree ‘cause you’re suspicious, or you trust Vera’s judgment and you need help. What could you need help with? Well, you ain’t the only brotherhood patrol that’s ever came to the commonwealth. So.”

“Here you go, Nick.” Ellie hands a battered folder over to the Synth. 

It checks the contents of the folder out, then holds it out to Danse. “Here. I’m willin’ to work with ya because you’ve given her back up. I appreciate that. Thinks she can take on the damn world...”

Never in his life did Danse think a synth’s word would make something resonate within himself, but that did. It makes him think of how he felt watching her call out the Mirelurk Queen. He gingerly takes the files, not wanting to get to close. “Apparently the only battle strategy she has is ‘Hit it hard and it dies.’ Not exactly a master tactician.”

As soon as he spoke he knew he shouldn’t have, because not only was he having a conversation with a sworn enemy of the brotherhood, but the Synth laughed. “Ah, she ever tell you how we met up?” When Danse didn’t answer the Synth waved that metal hand at him. “Heh, so it was like this-”

The Synth was an entertaining storyteller, and Danse had to remind himself several times that he was the enemy and he shouldn’t be enjoying hearing a secondhand tale of Vera smarting off through a vault. “Skinny Malone’s got four guys with him and his girl, and Vera thinks it’s a good time to start running her mouth.”

Danse snorted, then tried to school his face back into neutrality. He was here to pick up information. He hadn’t destroyed the synth because it was property of the General. Just had to keep telling himself that, he wasn’t here to be amused. 

“Needless to say they weren’t a fan of her, ah, ‘diplomacy’." The synth actually made air quotes as it spoke. “But she sweet talked her way through the whole thing and we got out of there with our hides intact. Escorted her back to Diamond city and the rest is history.”

“That sounds like her.” Danse shifts and edges towards the door. “Ah...” And he can’t believe he’s doing this, but: “Thank you for your assistance.” Thanking a synth. Maxson would be ashamed of him.

The Synth stands and murmurs something quickly to Ellie when she moves beside him, and starts towards Danse. “C’mon. I’ll help ya look into it. Don’t have nothin’ goin’ on in the city for a while and we both know y’shouldn’t be out there alone.”

Danse argues, but he’s cut off short by the HAM radio buzzing in the background. A soft, familiar voice calls out ‘Hey, Valentine’ in a tone that’s reminiscent of a song. The Synth shuffles back and picks the radio up.

“Hey, doll. Somethin’ you need?”

She’s just calling in to check on his investigation, she claims. It’s a pretty standard call, though Nick mentions that Danse has shown up. “You in one piece, Nick?”

“Sure, sure. Right as rain. Gonna help him out with a problem he has.” Danse glares at the Synth, trying to communicate without words ‘No you will not’. The synth smirks back at him.

“Oh, really?” Vera sounds relieved over the radio. “That’s great. I’d worry if he was out there alone. But you know the commonwealth better than I do. Take care of him.”

“I will, doll. You take care, now.” The Synth carefully hangs up the radio and turns to Danse, slipping it’s hands into it’s pockets and smirking. “So, what’s say we get this show on the road?”

“She should’ve left you in that vault.” Danse growls, but there’s no way he can turn the Synth down now that Vera knows he’s supposed to have a chaperon. She’d worry.

The Synth leads him through the commonwealth to where the brotherhood had been sighted years ago. There’s not much to go on, but luck strikes in a ruined house. There’s bits and peices of scuttled power armor around, and the upper half of a decayed man rests near a distress beacon still trying to send out a cry for help. The Synth carefully switches it off while Danse reclaims the Knight’s holo-tag.

The next clue they get is in east of that, in a ruined national guard building filled with ghouls. All that’s left is her holo tag and her last words recorded on a tape. Astlin had been a good marksman and didn’t deserve that death.

“Poor girl. Fighting till the end.” The machine sounds mournful, which it has no right doing. “We can set up a pyre outside if you want.”

“That would be appropriate.” Danse snaps and carefully gathers what’s left of the Knight’s body into his arms. Together with the Synth he gives her remains a final treatment better than what they’d had.

The holotape leads them to the third member of the squad, also long dead. They give him a final sendoff as well before heading to what Danse assumes will be the tomb of Paladin Brandis.

It’s probably for the best that the Synth hangs back just in case, because Danse nearly gets a face full of laser and he’s part of the Brotherhood. Somehow he manages to talk Brandis down and leads him out of his bunker. The Synth is still there, gas mask back on it’s face and gloves on it’s hands.

“Ah, listen.” The Synth murmurs as they start back to Diamond City. “Don’t mean no disrespect, but he looks rough. If you need to let him rest, there’s a spare cot in the agency.”

Danse grits his teeth and growls “That would be acceptable, thank you.” This entire day had been an exercise in dealing with something that he hated for the sake of a woman who likely didn’t feel as he did. It was exhausting, and the damn synth wasn’t making it any better by being so damn accommodating.

Brandis barricaded himself in the small room he was offered, leaving Danse to bide his time in the agency. He’s able to ignore any curiosity about the going-ons until he sees a file on the table labeled ‘Vera’. And even then he fights it for a while, busies himself reading a book he found on the Synth’s desk (and it made him more angry that the Synth was a fan of Poe) and tries to ignore the folder. But it’s a fool’s errand, he can’t stop himself from popping the file open.

Everything that Nick has gathered on her is inside. Her full name (Vera Anise Braun, née Medvedeva), date of birth, schooling. Notes on family history, her military record pre-war. There’s a collection of printouts from some computer about the regiment that she’d served with, Fox company. Fox company had been sent out to the Toronto region to clean up remaining resistance from the Resource wars. Apparently women had been permitted to serve pre-war but did so silently, her power armor had it's microphone disabled in case of radio transference. 'V. Braun' had been well regarded by 'his' fellow solders and revived an honorable discharge. Apparently after her brothers, one a twin, had died Vera had suffered a mental breakdown. Shortly after returning to civilian life and husband (Nathan Allen Braun) she'd given birth to a son (Shaun Allen Braun) and settled in Sanctuary Hills.

There’s a picture, too, a sober faced Vera in fatigues listening to some speaker. Danse admired it for a bit before tucking it back into the folder and returning to his book. With the temptation satisfied he was able to lose himself in Poe's work.

The Synth offed him the book in the morning before they left in the morning. “I’ve read it a dozen times.” It said and Danse accepted the book mostly to shut him up. “Ah, one more thing.”

“What.”

The Synth regarded him with his glowing eyes, looking serious. “Girl like that doesn’t sit around long. You’re interested, you tell her. Understood?”

The metaphorical gears in his brain grind to a halt and Danse just blurts out. “Good talk, goodbye.” before heading out with Brandis.

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to react when he finds that picture he’d admired tucked into the book, but Danse carefully hid it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6-3-18: changes made to fix continuity -jazzhands-


	4. Kellogg's All-Brain, part of a balanced breakfast.

“Paladin Danse. Come in. Please.” The station’s radio crackles to life and everyone inside looks to Danse, who tries to keep his face neutral as he slips over to the radio. It’s the General, who else would it be?

“General-”

That’s all he can get out before she’s replying, breathing hard as she does. “You said you’d help? Still able?”

Behind him Rhys starts to snicker, but is quickly silenced by Brandis. “Of course-”

“Good. Running by in a few minutes, southern gate.” The line goes silent then. Danse sighs and rubs his temples.

“Well, I have to deal with this.” He sighs to Brandis. “The recruits do well under direction. Hold things down.”

Brandis nodded and from outside Danse could hear a dog barking that was getting louder. He headed outside and poked his head out the south gate, seeing a dog crest the hill. It continued barking, not stopping for him as it raced past. Following after was Vera, gasping for air but not stopping for anything.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” She called as she ran after the dog. Danse stared after her for a moment before he left the gate fully and was passed by Nick Valentine bringing up the rear of the party. Danse rolled his eyes and followed after. He had promised.

They run after the dog until it slows, snuffling around various places to get the scent. It whines and looks to them and Vera gets down on her knees and holds it’s face.

“C’mon Dogmeat, who’s a good boy? Who can pick up the scent? I know you can.” The dog whined and licked her face before going back to snuffling around. Vera sits on the ground and watches the dog work. She’s focused entirely on the animal and pays neither Danse nor the Synth any attention.

“Found Kellogg’s nest in Diamond City.” The Synth explains to Danse softly as it lights a cigarette. At Danse’s look it elaborates: “Kellogg’s a merc that works for the Institute. Seen in Diamond city recently, had a kid with him. Blonde hair, bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. Older than a baby, but who knows how long ago they took him before she got out.”

The dog catches the scent and bounds off barking again. Vera surges to her feet and goes after it with the Synth and Danse following her. They stop several more times, surveying battle scenes and following still fresh blood trails. Kellogg’s hurt and leaving an easy trail for the dog to follow.

They make quick work of whatever ghoul or raider or yao gui they go past until the dog leads them to a boarded up entrance to a pre-war military base. “Good boy. Let us take care of this, okay?” The Synth scratches the dog’s head and offers it a treat. The dog whines and refuses to be sent back, following them around the building as they disable turrets. The last glimpse Danse gets of him is when they shut him outside.

“All right.” Vera speaks finally when they enter the building. “Listen, I know you two don’t get along, but right now-” She’s interrupted by the loudspeaker clicking on and the voice makes her eyes widen and go glassy.

“Heh. Never expected you to come knockin’ on my door.” Whomever speaks seems calm, almost amused. “Gave you fifty-fifty shot of making it to Diamond City. After that, figured the commonwealth would chew you up like jerky.”

Nick reaches out to touch her with his metal and and she shakes herself out of the shock she’d been in. There’s wildness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, she wasn’t able to hold herself in. “All right, shitheads. Don’t kill each other or I’ll kill the survivor. We get in, we get our info, we leave him in a body bag. Go!” Her manner of speech and cadence have changed entirely, no more nonsense allowed.

The first room they walked into was overrun by Synths. Valentine backed up a bit behind Danse to give itself cover and no errant shots came his way. Danse methodically took down the Synths that he targeted in standard brotherhood procedure. Vera ran in close and either shot them close range with her shotgun or used it as a bludgeon. 

“Look. You’re pissed off. I get it. I do.” The man over the loudspeaker says. Vera fires another shot into a downed synth, hands shaking as she holsters her weapon.

“I was pissed off six months ago!” She shouts out to the speaker. “ ‘Pissed off’ doesn’t begin to describe what I am now!”

“But whatever you hope to accomplish in here? Heh, it’s not going to go your way.”

The speaker goes silent after that. Danse steps closer to Vera, hesitantly reaching a hand out to her. “Not now, thank you.” She snaps and he pulls the hand back. “This isn’t a good day, Danse. And if I can get you to cut that look, Valentine, I’d fuckin’ love that.”

“This is how my face looks.” The synth replies, but Danse has to agree with Vera, it looks a bit... Judgmental at her outburst? “Just... breathe, Doll. He won’t get past us.”

“That motherfucker is watching us and you want me to be calm? I don’t want to be calm! I want him to watch and know that everything I’m doing to his fucking toys I’m going to do to him!” She stalks over to Valentine and grabs it by the front of it’s jacket. “I want him to watch, Nick, and I want him to know he can’t do a damn thing to change what’s going to happen.”

Valentine just puts a hand over hers and gives it a little squeeze. “An eye for an eye, huh?”

“I always preferred the old Testament.” She lets Valentine go but the Synth doesn’t, holding her hand still as she pulls back.

“We’re with ya. Remember that?”

“I do.” She’s calmed somewhat, putting that rage that she’s held in back behind bars. They go through a door and down some stairs, stopping in a side room to check terminals. They’re able to disable a turret system before working through more Synths.

It surprises Danse that Valentine turns against it’s own kind, though he supposes it’s been programmed to protect humans. “It doesn’t bother you to shoot them?” He asks as Valentine steps over a downed Synth. Their faces are similar, though the kind they’ve taken down have mechanical voices and static expressions.

“Used to. But they fire on me just like they fire on you, and I never met one that acted like I do. Just think of ‘em like protectrons.”

“Oh good,” Vera huffs as they descend a flight of stairs. “You’re being friendly. I’m glad you’ll come out of this closer. Nothing like a life changing event to bring two people together.”

Her sarcasm cuts off quickly as the speakers crackle to life again. “You’ve got guts and determination. It’s admirable, but you’re in way over your head in ways you can’t possibly comprehend.”

Vera stops in her tracks and takes a deep breath in, clasping her hands together in front of her face, her index and middle finger resting at her nose. After a moment of silent reflection and deep breathing she points her hands at a speaker. “Boy. I’ve been getting that shit my whole life and I’ve always proved people wrong.” She strides down the hallway-

And face first into another Synth patrol. “Mother fucker!” She yelps, dropping down. Danse rushes forward and provides cover for her and Valentine to crack out shots at the Synths while he unloads his mini gun at them. Vera silently shoves a stimpack into her stomach and continues down the hall.

“Wait.” Danse calls out and she stops, slowly turning her head to look back at him. She looks to be barely holding onto her composure, focused only on moving ahead. “Let me go first.”

Silence. Then, Valentine chips in with “It makes sense.”

Vera makes some sort of garbled noise and throws her arms up in the air. “FINE.”

Danse strides into the lead and the pair follow after him. The speaker calls out to them again, telling Vera to stop and leave. That she ‘has that option’. Vera responds by firing a round into a speaker as they pass it. 

“Thinks he can speak to me like that, goddamn, gonna fucking rip him open from dick to mouth-”

They go through more rooms, silent except for Vera’s mumbled threats and the occasional patrolling Synth. Before they go through a silver door the speakers crackle to life a final time. “Heh. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk.”

Danse looks back at Vera and she’s staring through him, eyes burning. It goes against everything that he’s been taught, but he steps aside to let her pass. He trusts that she’ll be able to dodge if she needs, and she deserves to take point here.

The next room is a logistical nightmare, pre-war computer paraphernalia everywhere. There’s motion all over the room, synths patrol and wander too close for comfort. The man they’ve been after leans against a large computer, smirking at Vera as she strides near. “There she is. The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.” Kellogg looks her up and down, his smirk widens. “Let’s, ah, talk.”

Vera clasps her hands together again, leaving the index fingers out in a gun-like shape and points it at Kellogg. “You murdered my husband. You took my baby. You’re a dead man.”

“Your husband... was a regrettable accident-”

“It’s pretty hard to accidentally kill an unarmed man but please, keep trying to shirk the blame.”

Kellogg stares at her. She stares back. The synths amble around the room. Danse ponders the best way to start taking them out. Valentine likely does as well.

“Your son’s a great kid. Bit older than you thought, but I bet you guessed that by now.”

“Hey, fuck you, Kellogg.”

The merc shakes his head and has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Your son’s gone. Let him go. Your time’s done. Your son’s in a place where he’s loved and taken care of. The Institute.”

Danse’s eyes widen and he feels a sudden, intense feeling of sympathy for Vera. There’s no chance of her son coming out of that. The Institute was a bastion of all that was wrong with pre-war America, technology running amok and the citizens of the world paying the price. 

“Here. The Institute. I’ll find my son no matter where he is.” Her voice has gone flat. No nonsense. As if this is the only path she can take and there’s no deviating from it. 

Kellogg laughs at that. “That’s the spirit. You know, you surprise me. I find myself actually kind of liking you.” He pushes himself away from the computer, still looking relaxed and amused. “But I think we’ve been talking quite enough. We both know how this has to end. So... You ready?”

Danse moves forward a bit, the Synths do as well. He can see Vera’s face still momentarily blank before her expression changes, a warm smile covering her face. “In a hundred years, when I finally die, I hope I go to hell so I can kill you all over again, you piece of shit.” She chirps in a voice that sounds picture perfect for any pre-war housewife.

Things go fast after that. Synths from all sides, Kellogg pulls a stealth boy and likely was annoyed when Vera does the same. It certainly annoyed Danse, who hoped that the General was at least smart enough to not walk in front of his gun. 

As they take care of the synths, Danse can hear Kellogg taunting Vera. He catches Kellogg with the odd spray of bullets, but the man’s hard to pin down. Valentine yelps as it’s shot, disabled by some sort of EMP.

The merc is tough, managing to disable Danse’ armor by shooting the core. As he deals with that Kellogg drops the stealthboy and fires a shot. Somehow it fires true, Vera comes abruptly back into sight bleeding from her abdomen. She goes to a knee, simeltaneously trying to put pressure on the wound as she’s reaching into her pack.

“It’s the end of the line.” Kellogg states firmly as he moves towards her, reloading the pistol. Vera looks up with a bloody smile, holding something from her pack in one hand before jamming it into her thigh. She shakes a bit and growls, grabbing a laser rifle from a downed synth. She doesn’t use it as the weapon’s intended, though: she rushes forward with surprising speed and smashes it upwards into Kellogg’s face.

The merc stumbles back and Vera’s relentless, moving forward every time he gives her and inch and continuing to beat him with the gun. She’s screaming as she does so, not words but an agonized, rageful howling. She hits him hard enough that the rifle actually breaks, and she’s on him when he falls backwards.

Danse can’t see what happens after that, his armor powered down and trapping him. But he can hear the merc struggling, Vera growling, and then a final wet thud as something heavy connects. Then there’s silence. 

Behind a machine something clatters and Danse can hear whirring and clanking coming towards him. “Just me.” Valentine mumbles, fiddling around with Danse’ armor core. In a minute or so he’s got power again and goes to where he’d last seen Vera.

She’s sitting on the ground in a heap by Kellogg’s corpse, a broken gore-covered desk fan in her hands. “Hey boys.” She says softly, eyes closed. “Mind getting me a stim pack?”

Valentine is silently fumbling around in her pack and pulls out two, injecting her above and below the gut wound. She sighs and leans back against the desk, letting the bloodied fan drop to the ground.

“Help me search around.” Valentine mutters to Danse. “She’s gonna be out of it for a while.”

“Don’ judge me. Needed an edge.” The way her speech slurs, the sudden violence at the end of the fight: Danse knows what was in that syringe she’d used. He tries to take comfort that he knows that she’s not a psycho addict, but it’s easy for someone to fall down that path. 

They search the room and the corpse, Valentine pocketing a few things that it thought to be useful, including a piece of tech that came from the merc’s head. Danse looks into the terminal and finds an entry stating that the package had been returned to the institute. Apparently Kellogg had been after an escapee from the Institute?

“You need some Fixer?” Valentine asks as it checks on Vera. 

She seems content to sit there beside the corpse, spinning the fan idly in her hands. “Nah. Haven’t used Psycho since I was on the ground. Forgot how it feels.” She looks over at Kellogg and snorts. “I beat his head in with a desk fan and I think I broke my hand.”

Valentine gently takes her hand in both of its and looks at it carefully. “Eeeh, yeah, hon. Your hand shouldn’t bend like that. We’ll hit up Doc Sun, get you right as rain. Psycho wore off enough that it hurts?”

“Nope!” She struggles to her feet and lets the gory fan drop to the ground. “I kinda wanna just... shoot him till he explodes into pieces. That would be... wrong, right?”

“Yeah, doll. That’d be wrong.”

She flashes him a wide, trusting smile. “Thanks, Nick. It feels like it’d be good but I trust you.” Vera looks towards Danse and tips her head at the corpse while Valentine’s back is turned. He squints and assumes that she’s asking for a covert second opinion on if she can abuse the corpse because, well, that’s the kind of day they’re having. He gives her a firm head shake and she answers with a thumbs up. 

Danse steps through the synths and stands by her, giving her an awkward pat on the back when she leans against him.”There was a note on the terminal. He was tracking an escapee from the institute. That could be a way in, unless the Synth is willing to talk?”

Valentine glared his way. “If I would I could, but they didn’t exactly leave me directions ‘home’ when they threw me in the garbage.” It snapped, but it’s expression and voice both softened when he turned to Vera. “It’s dark now, but chin up. It’ll get brighter. We’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks, Nick. It’s been a hell of a day.” She dragged her good hand through her hair and then down her face. “God, I thought it’d go right. I thought we’d find my boy. Dunno why.”

“The Syn- ... Nick,” He stresses the name because he’s aware of how attached she is to it. “Is right. If your son’s been taking by the Institute then he’s another in the list of those who were wronged by technology run amok. The Brotherhood will be here, and so will I.”

They leave Kellogg to rot, alone and unmourned. Nearby they find rooftop access and Nick goes up first, leaving Danse to assist Vera. She wobbles backwards and winds up sitting on his shoulders until Nick can reach down and help her. Lights move oddly in the sky, and Danse looks up to see the most beautiful thing in the commonwealth: The Prydwen.

She lofts overhead, flanked by Vertibirds, while the PA system alerts the people of the commonwealth. It’s good to see her, finally things feel right and he’s proud and hopeful and horribly homesick all at once. He looks down at his traveling companions, eager to see what they think of her.

Nick, as could be suspected, looks pensive. “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing.” It murmurs and hearing Poe quoted so forebodingly puts an instant damper on Danse’ good mood. 

“Nick?” Vera murmurs, staring up as well. Danse can see the lights reflected in her eyes and it’s... Just as beautiful as the ship itself.

“Flying that ship into the commonwealth.” Nick shakes it’s head and puts it’s hands in it’s pockets. “Mark my words, the Brotherhood’s here to start a war.”

“Against the institute.” Danse argues, looking to reassure her. Vera grimaces and supports her broken hand with her whole one. “We have no mission against the people of the commonwealth.”

“The Chinese didn’t care about the American people, just the government. We got caught in that fallout.” Vera looks up at him and sighs. She looks exhausted and... Old. She’s never really talked about the past and sometimes Danse forgets, but this is a woman who has the image of a mushroom cloud over Boston engraved in her mind. “How many of us are you going to kill to take them down?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, and as the Prydwen drifts towards the ruins of the Boston airport he finds that his previous joy at seeing her has been tainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without a doubt, the hardest thing about writing in third person limted from Danse' POV is calling Nick 'it'.


	5. Showdown at the Prydwen corral

From the moment his boots hit the deck of the Prydwen he feels home, any worry or anxiety that he feels is washed away. Brandis walks at his side, Rhys and Haylen follow after them. Once they enter the Prydwen’s main deck Cade escorts Brandis below deck and gives them stern orders to come to his quarters after they’ve seen Maxson.

Maxson waits in his audience chamber, back to the door as he surveys the commonwealth. As always he cuts an impressive and imposing figure and both Rhys and Halylen stand taller in his presence. Maxson makes Danse feel the same pride that he does about the Brotherhood itself. When Danse and Cutler had first joined the brotherhood in the Capital Wastes, Maxson had still been a timid young boy of no more than eleven or twelve. Over the years Danse had watched him grow into a capable, talented, charismatic man that he supported fully.

“Paladin, Knight, Scribe. It’s good to see you back.” Maxson crosses the room briskly, arms behind his back. He stops in front of Haylen to greet her directly. “Scribe Haylen, the readings that you sent back were troubling but we believe it is our first real lead into the location of the Institute. Excellent work.”

Haylen tries to stamp down on the prideful smile that blooms on her face and is only partially successful. “Thank you, sir.”

“Knight, Scribe, report to medical for your physicals and make your reports after. Give the Paladin and I the room.”

“Sir.” Both of Danse’ men saluted and left the room, closing the doors after them. Maxson regarded Danse before gesturing to one of the couches.

Danse exits his power armor and sits down while Maxson busies himself at a liquor cabinet. He offers Danse a drink before sitting in a chair, lounging back. “If it looks like this from above I can’t help but think that you were being conservative in your reports of the ground.”

“It’s rough.” Danse admits, taking a large gulp of the drink. He doesn’t wince but it’s a near thing: Maxson’s at the stage in a man’s life when he mixed alcohol with more alcohol and called it a mixed drink. It doesn’t matter if it tastes like shit, it’ll relax him and that’s the entire point of drinking. “But whenever I went out once we secured the Station I had assistance from locals. Using them tempered the fallout from the commonwealth.”

“Smart. So.” Maxson leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, fixing Danse with a piercing stare. “Tell me about the Minutemen.”

“Untrained mostly, but eager to protect their homes. Slogan is ‘Protect the people at a minute’s notice’. They’re spreading across the commonwealth quickly by assisting and allying with small homesteads. It’s working, somehow.” Danse sighed and spun the liquor in his glass a bit. “I did a few trades of labor and assistance to gain supplies for the station. They’re fair and if you treat them with respect and work towards a better commonwealth they’ll be good local allies.”

It was similar to what Danse had sent back in reports. “What about their leadership?”

“Their General is Vera Braun, I’ve worked with her in the past on various matters. Second in command is Preston Garvey, he’s very competent. Preston is idealistic. Vera is....” It’s hard to accurately describe her to Maxson. She’s a lot of things. “She’s very proud. It’s easy to insult her. But she saved my squad from being overrun by ghouls without reason other than we needed help.”

Maxson doesn’t add anything so Danse keeps going on. “She’s reliable in a fight and it’s impressive to watch her adapt to different situations. I’m certain she can talk her way out of anything. She’s... very determined. Driven. Why are you making that face?” Danse can ask that question because the liquor has taken the edge off his social anxiety, because he and Maxson had been friendly since Danse first joined the brotherhood, and because Maxson is grinning at him. He always tends to look severe or brooding, it’s rare to see him smile.

“You like her. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about someone this way.” He looks... delighted, which always sits a bit odd on his rough face. 

“I don’t understand what you mean. I describe you in the exact same terms.” If he took a minute to think about that it was a bit odd, but he supposed he had a type. Natural leaders that could handle themselves in a firefight, people who held confidence and were able to speak well.

Maxson rolled his eyes. “You don’t blush when you talk about me.”

“I’m drinking. Right here, it’s in my hand. You gave it to me. You flush when you drink. It’s biology.” Danse gestured to his drink but he knew there wasn’t enough of it gone to explain him blushing and he also knew that Maxson wasn’t falling for it. He looked, if anything, more amused.

Great.

“Please drop this.” Danse mumbles, rubbing at his temples with his free hand. 

Maxson watches him for another moment before leaning back in his chair. “Fine. Consider it dropped.”

“Thank you.”

Danse finishes his drink and converses with Maxson until any drunkenness has faded to a slight buzz. He drops off his armor with Ingram who takes a moment to berate him in her usual fashion. After that he reports to Cade and keeps that as brief as possible, refusing the doctor’s recommendation of removal from duty. He’d admit that his time in the commonwealth had damaged him, but he refused to admit that he was shell shocked or was experiencing battle fatigue.

He avoided the common areas of the ship, choosing instead to head straight to his quarters. Once the door closed behind him he relaxed, leaning back against it after he’d locked it. Danse shuffled to the bed and flopped down in a heap, letting the ambient sounds of the ship wash over him.

Eventually he got up and sorted out the few things he’d brought up with him from the commonwealth, the book from Valentine was sat on his bedside table with Vera’s picture still folded inside. He entertained the idea of finding the picture a frame, but that would only add more fuel to the fire concerning people and their need to know his business.

Not that there was any business to be known, of course.

Danse shifts about until he’s comfortable on his cot, an arm draped over his eyes to blot out any light. He tries to relax and get some sleep but he can’t get his mind to settle down. It’s like there’s a constant stream of memories playing in his head, of Squad Gladius complete and then a frame by frame shot of how it’d been fractured. Super mutants, grenades, his own orders, ghouls.

There won’t be sleep tonight without the aid of alcohol, that’s for sure. He sits up and pulls a NukaCherry from his stash under the bed, uncapping it and taking a few drinks before topping it off with some of the moonshine that Barnes had brewed earlier that year. It was harsh and woody and strong enough to make you go blind, but it did it’s job.

The memories muddle up and he can’t remember what he was trying to forget. He knows it was important and painful, but all he can focus on is how the room spins when he closes his eyes. When his head drifts to one side he opens his eyes and spots his HAM radio.

Danse knows it’s a stupid idea even as he reaches over for the radio, but he’s drunk and tired and, shit, he does have a thing for the General. He turns the dial around until it reaches the frequency her pip-boy is set on and he tries his luck. “Hey, General.” He mumbles, shifting to his side fully and holding the microphone.

There isn’t an answer for a bit, he’s starting to drift off when one comes. “Danse? You sound drunk.” She whispers back, and there’s a slur to her own words.

“So do you.” Just hearing her voice made him grin and he let his eyes close.

“’Cause I am.” She snickered a bit and he could hear rustling as she likely shifted about. Her voice had an odd echo to it but that was easily ignored. “How’s the... Pride-wind?”

“Prydwen. Beautiful. I missed her.”

“Gonna make me jealous.” Danse can hear noise in the background and Vera grumbles. “They’re not giving up.”

“What’s going on?”

“Heh. Well. I kinda holed up in my bathroom after Fort Hagan. Jammed the lock. I’ve been-” She snickers for a long moment then before recovering. “I’ve been getting drunk and sleeping in the bathtub. Preston actually went to Diamond City to get Nick.”

“You all right?” Danse cautiously sat up, gripping the radio receiver tightly. Was she more hurt than she’d let on after the fight with Kellogg?

“I’ll keep. Just... Need some time to myself. Need to... Yenno, I didn’t like being married.” Danse blinks at the sudden change of topic, but lets it slide as she continues. “Hated it, really. Hated being pregnant. Ruining my body for another creature? It was disgusting. But... Once he was born, he was mine. He was always mine, Danse. He smiled for me, and laughed for me, he fit perfect in my arms. I’ve never loved anything like I loved that baby.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t find him.”

“M’not stupid. I know he’s dead. But nothing’s gonna stop me from burning that place to the ground.”

The line goes silent and Danse lays there quiet as well. He gets his thoughts in neat little ordered rows before he calls out to her. “I know you will. But, can you do something for me?”

“Mmm, sure.”

“Get out of the bathtub and open the door. They’re worried.”

She sighs again. “You’re annoying. Right, but annoying. Can’t hide forever. Get some sleep, Danse.”

“You too.” 

The radio clicks off with finality and Danse curls on his side.

The days that follow his return to the Prydwen move by fast. There’s meetings held with Maxson and Kells, reporting to Ingram and working on repairing armor, advising Quinlan on where to send squads looking for documents. It seems like there’s no end of things to do and he’s glad for the distraction, but eager to get his boots back on the ground.

He has to stay aboard, however, because the Prydwen is expecting a guest. He stands by the Vertibirds and stares south, watching one land at the Castle and lift back off. Danse waits until it returns and heads towards it to greet her.

Vera hops off the Vertibird and somehow looks graceful doing so, like she’s had years of practice. She’s dressed in a typical minuteman looking outfit and even has the tricorn hat on her head. “Paladin, a pleasure.”

“Allow me to escort you, General.” Danse falls in step beside her and guides her along the gangway up to the Prydwen’s deck. Inside Knights stand at attention while Maxson stands on the command deck, backlit by the windows surveying the commonwealth. He cuts an impressive figure and for a moment Danse worries about how his brothers see the little Minuteman general. She’s small and still sickly looking, wearing old clothing that doesn’t fit well.

She squares her shoulders and struts into the command deck to meet Maxson without a hint of fear or apprehension, she oozes confidence and grace. Danse knows that even if she doesn’t look to be impressive that she has a manner that will prove that she is. “Elder Maxson, thank you for permitting me to board. She’s a lovely craft. Seeing her aloft in the Commonwealth gives all of us on the ground hope.” She speaks smoothly in a well practiced, even tone.

Maxson crosses the room to greet her properly and the man towers above her. Still, she shows not an ounce of discomfort. “It’s a pleasure, General Braun.” Maxson catches Danse’ eye and nods him inside the room. “We have much to discuss about plans in the commonwealth.”

Vera’s poised smile remains on her face until the doors clack shut behind them. “Really, it’s impressive to see a zeppelin aloft these days. Color me impressed, Elder.” She smirks a bit at the title, like calling a man her junior ‘elder’ amuses her.

“Thank you.” Ingram says stoutly from her place at the table that’s been dragged into the room. Vera’s poised smile is replaced with a broad one at the sight of Ingram and the sound of her pride in her work. Beside her sits Kells who watches Vera with an unimpressed face. He shares a furtive look with Maxson.

Danse suddenly feels apprehensive about this meeting.

After Vera sits at the foot of the table and Maxson takes his place at the head, they go into business. General talk about the state of the commonwealth, trade routes, synth sightings and the like. Vera has quite a lot of valuable information.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take Danse’s offer of joining the Brotherhood.” Ingram mentions during a lull in the information dump while Kells and Maxson confer.

Vera shrugs and leans back into her chair, looking relaxed. “I have my own agenda and doubted that I could serve the Brotherhood of Steel. Now that I have the means I’m more than happy to assist if aid is given in return. But... I’ve always found it to be disrespectful to serve an organization if you can’t live by it’s tenants.”

“And you can by the Minutemen’s?”

Ingram sounds sceptical but Vera waves it off. “They’re good men and women who just want to make their homes safer. I can respect that. Help them up and they can stand on their own.”

Kells and Maxson finish their quiet talk and Maxson sits at the head of the table. He looks stern in Vera’s direction and she seems to not be affected by his look. “Your offer of help is appreciated.” Maxson states very calmly and with a very neutral tone and Danse instinctively braces for impact. “However, we are not in need of civilian assistance. Should your ‘Minutemen’ stand in the way of Brotherhood investigations we will react accordingly.”

The General raises her brows high. “Mmm, making the Brotherhood sound a bit like an invading force now, with a refusal of co-operation with local militia. As the General of the Minutemen I’ll have to react accordingly.” She turns the dial on her Pip-Boy’s radio until she finds the right frequency.

“Preston?” Vera stares right at Maxson while she speaks into the Pip-boy.

There’s a few moment’s delay before Preston responds. “General.”

“Fire one warning volley above the Prydwen.”

“Understood.”

“What are you-” Kells manages to get out before there’s a whistling sound and something flies over the Prydwen close enough that they can see it through the windows.

“I have, in my possession, five pieces of artillery stationed at the castle.” Vera clasps her hands together and leans over the table, staring Maxson down. It’s like there’s no other people in the room than the two of them. “I’ve ordered the construction of one at each of the minutemen aligned settlements and I’d like you to guess where they’re pointed right now. They fire explosive rounds that are highly accurate; I did just trust my life to them now. The Prydwen is kept aloft by hydrogen which is highly flammable. You have no weapons aboard this ship to ward against possible explosion.”

The room is silent as the grave and Maxson stares her down with a tight face. A slow smile spreads over Vera’s face.

“I am prepared to accelerate this argument in a way that you are not. Figure that I’ve survived the apocalypse once and I can do it again. You and I could accomplish great things in the world, Arthur. We could make the Institute pay for treating the world like an experiment. But if you fuck with me? By the rocket’s red glare, I’ll blow your ship out of the air.”

“Give me the room.” Maxson says flatly to his men and Ingram, Danse, and Kells all do as told. Danse’ last look into the command room is of Maxson staring down a still grinning Vera.

“What did you bring aboard, Paladin?” Kells hisses at Danse as the doors snap shut. Danse pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s not even a whisper to be heard through the doors.

“Why would my advise on dealing with the General be asked if it was going to be disregarded.” Danse asks flatly, not expecting a response. He gets none, as expected.

Everyone on the Prydwen is on edge after the close call and Danse catches people loitering outside the command deck trying to get a hint of what’s going on inside. The scribe that brings food up is badgered by everyone for information.

“They were just sitting and going over maps of the Commonwealth, the Elder was adding notes from her map to his. They seemed to get along well.” Danse has a hard time picturing that with how Vera had punctuated her firm refusal to have her fate dictated by the Brotherhood.

The silence bothers him as much as it does anyone else, makes him worry. He doesn’t expect to have an easy night of rest. He’s proven right when a page knocks on his door and calls him up to the command deck.

Maxson lounges in a chair, coat thrown across the back. Vera sits similarly in her chair, feet bare and her own coat tossed to the side with her gloves and hat. The room is calm. “You requested my presence, sir?”

“I did, actually.” Vera smiles at him, leaning her face against one fist. “Paladin Danse, would you agree with serving on the ground with the Minutemen?”

That is.... Danse looks to Maxson for guidance but the man’s face is neutral. “If it would serve the Brotherhood, I would do whatever is necessary.”

“Your man, through and through.” Vera smirks at Maxson. “Danse, we’re brokering an agreement for exchanging information in all aspects because we agree that the Institute needs to be incinerated.”

“There’s no time for arguments or ego.” Maxson agrees. He’s a talented orator and good at making things work. It doesn’t surprise Danse that they worked the situation out, but he can’t imagine there’s any good blood between them. “We need agents to work with both of our organizations.”

“And he needs to have someone he trusts to be more swayed by his charms that mine.” She looks tired but still utterly at ease, like things hadn’t been close to the breaking point hours ago. Was that one had to be pre-war? Pressed on all sides by possible disaster, it would make sense that they dealt with the stress. “You’ll report to him what we’re doing so he can keep an eye on us, and I’d like your help in the field as well as assisting with setting up training programs for our new members.”

Danse looked to Maxson again, who gave a slight nod. “I would be honored to assist, General.”

“Outstanding.”

She leaves in the morning, offering profuse public thanks to Maxson for his understanding with ‘the mistake in calibration on their artillery’. Danse shadows her to the waiting Vertibird and stands behind her after they board and launch off. 

“I’m ever so appreciative of your elder for letting me borrow you.” Vera tells him in the sweet, chipper tones that she uses around other people, the ones she’s trying to impress.

Danse makes a neutral non-commital noise as the Castle gets closer and closer. He can see their artillery cannons: Three point towards the Prydwen and two point back up the road that leads to the gate. Danse saultes their pilot when they land and watches the Vertibird lift off.

“I’ll turn you over to Ronnie when she sticks her nose into our busines- Speak of the Devil and she appears. Ronnie!” Vera waves at a stern looking woman fast approaching them. “Look what I got!”

“I’m supposed to be impressed by you bringing your boyfriend over?” The old woman snaps, staring up at Danse. “Armor ain’t bad at least.”

Vera rolls her eyes hard. “I figured you’d be pleased that I brought in someone to assist with drilling our recruits, as well as someone who’s not stupid and knows how to wear a fuckin’ suit of power armor, ya nasty old bitch.”

Ronnie and Vera snip back at each other as Danse follows silently behind. He’s lead to the armory, which has a power armor frame and a few nearby small rooms. “Small, but the little offices make good officer rooms. Ronnie has one here as well. I’ll make arrangements with the prisoner and have it stocked up with basic supplies. The armory is locked unless Ronnie is inside. Welcome to the Castle, Paladin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I ever mentioned it, but this chapter has the line that made me start writing this. 'By the rocket's red glare, I'll blow your ship out of the air' was the throw away line from my asshole SoSu that started this monstrosity.


	6. It's always Sunny in Goodneighbor

His days at the Castle are honestly even more busy than his ones on the Prydwen. Drills are written up and enforced for the steady stream of recruits who come into the Castle. Whenever the Minutemen ally with another settlement a few come to the Castle to join their ranks, Caravans also bring in new recruits regularly. 

They’re supported only by the nearly insane level of micro-managing by Preston, who doles out settlers to settlements with a brotherhood level of precision. He knows the ability of each settlement to produce food and water, as well as their ability to house more settlers.

“I’m impressed by him.” Danse says to Vera, nodding at Preston. The second in command talks to a group of downtrodden settlers who, over the course of the conversation, start to look brighter and even hopeful. “It’s amazing what he does by himself.”

Vera sips from a bottle of Nuka-Cherry, squinting against the sunset light. “I’d be lost without him. I’m good at inspiring people and making them do what I want, but Preston’s the one telling me what we can actually accomplish. He’s my little dream killer. ‘No, General, you can’t nuke a tower full of super mutants.’ ‘No, General, you can’t set those raiders on fire and let God sort them out.’ ‘No, General, you can’t run away from your responsibilities and become a raider queen.’.” Vera deepened her voice and did her best impression of Preston’s cadence. 

“That is all very solid advice. You should continue to follow it.” Danse advised.

“Spoil-sport.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence after that, Vera staring down the road that led up to the Castle. They weren’t just sitting there to observe the transfer of settlers, or even just to spend time together, they were waiting for Nick Valenine to return from Diamond City. Once it did the trio would set out to, ugh, Goodneighbor.

He’d heard rumors of it and already dreaded going in without being able to burn it to the ground. A lawless hub of scum and villainy ruled over by a ghoul? Danse would be happier to drop bombs from a vertibird than to step foot inside of it. Valentine said there was someone in town who would be able to decode some of the tech it’d pulled out of Kellogg’s head. 

Danse had found himself once again unable to tell Vera no when she asked him to tag along despite how repugnant he thought the trip sounded. He had been sent down to assist the General and report back to Maxson, so he had to follow her wherever she bade him to and with whatever company she wished.

Vera’s face brightened as she spotted Valentine’s figure coming their way and she hopped away from the wall to head out and meet it, Danse following behind. “Hey, Valentine.”

“Hey yourself.” Valentine greets her warmly, offering an embrace before Vera can make the first move. She happily hugs it tightly, the synth patting her back. Yellow eyes look towards Danse as he does. “Paladin.”

‘Be mature, Danse,’ he told himself sternly. “Detective.”

Pulling away from the hug, Vera gave Valentine an affectionate pat on it’s cheek. “Look at you boys, being all friendly. Makes traveling with you a whole lot less painful. C’mon, Nick, take us to Goodneighbor.”

The Synth lead them through dilapidated Boston, clearly trying to take whatever path would have the least strife. They still had to contend with the odd group of raiders or gunners, and more Ghouls than he’d like to deal with.

They make one detour: Vera sees how Danse slows slightly when they walk past a ruined bookstore. “Oh, the old corner store.” Her eyes are years away for a moment before she brings herself back to the present. “I’ve got a few minutes to browse. C’mon.”

There aren’t many complete books left inside the shop, but they manage to piece together several copies to make full books again and Danse finds himself with a few more books to add to his collection. She waves off his thanks easily as they get back on the road. “You’ve been a good sport about this whole thing.”

“There’s... no problem at all.” Danse shifts uncomfortably as they squeeze through a narrow alley. “I am happy to assist in whatever way possible.”

“I know, I know. You’ll do it but you won’t like it. And I appreciate the help.” Vera hooks a hand in his shoulder armor and tugs on it, trying to bring his head down. He leans down and she-

Danse is glad when she continues on their path after kissing his cheek, because it takes a minute to process and he knows that he has to be an embarrassing shade of scarlet. As he follows after them his mind keeps straying away: Why had she done that? Was it a sign of platonic affection, like the hugging she lavished on Valentine? Or could he hope that it was more and his ridiculous inability to control his emotions were mirrored in her?

Vera looks over her shoulder at him and smirks. “Don’t lag behind, Paladin.”

Then again, she could just be toying with him.

Goodneighbor is a ramshackle town looking very much like reports stated it would, the ‘local watch’ dressed up like old time mobsters and every eye was on their group as they walked through the gates. Valentine had taken the lead, it didn’t look apprehensive at all. Goodneighbor was it’s type of place, probably. 

They don’t make it too far past the gates before some local tough in a leather jacket slides up to them and smarts off to Valentine. The synth smarts right back and the tough’s eyes move to Vera. He gives her a slow look up and down followed by a smirk. “What’re you, the dick-in-training?”

“Sure am. We’re hiring but...” She gave him a mirrored look up and down and a disappointed roll of her eyes. “I doubt you’d measure up.”

“Now don’t be like that.” The tough demurred. “First time in Goodneighbor, you’re gonna need insurance. Stop somethin’ bad from happenin’ to ya.”

Vera took in a deep breath and looked to Nick, then over to Danse. She seemed to be warring inside herself over a response before deciding on her course of action. “Listen, shit for brains. I am something bad that happens. So if you don’t want me to get my big, armored friend here to show your neighbors what your insides look like, you’re gonna step the fuck back.”

Valentine audibly sighed and shook his head at her. The tough looked over to Danse, who just glared down at him, before looking back to Vera. “Tick-Tock.” She said flatly.

Before the tough can try to argue his way out of the situation it changes in an unpredictable way when a red frocked ghoul enters the conversation. When it cheerily calls Valentine by name the Synth replies with a terse ‘Hancock’. So this is the Mayor of Goodneighbor, then.

The altercation ends with Hancock stabbing the tough, Finn, and leaving him in the street. He wipes his knife off on his coat before sauntering over to Vera, greeting her.

“Afraid this would happen.” Valentine muttered to itself. Whatever Hancock said to Vera made her laugh. “This is the nightmare scenario. C’mon. She’s irresponsible and he’s an asshole.”

“Those descriptions could easily be switched-” Hancock made her laugh again, clearly enjoying himself as well. Danse looked down at Valentine, and for one brief moment the Synth and Brotherhood paladin were truly in sync. “We have to stop this.”

Vera spots them as they approach and leans over to whisper something to Hancock. The ghoul eyes Danse and chuckles. This development does not put him at ease. “Nicky, you never write, you never visit. Startin’ to think you don’t like me.”

“Forgive me for needin’ some time to recover from the last time I came to Goodneighbor.” Valentine rolled it’s eyes. “Ellie spent a week patchin’ up my coat from all the bullet holes that went through it.”

“Now how was I supposed to know you and CLEO wouldn’t hit it off?” Through a nearby shopfront an assaultron looms and cleans a minigun ominously. Valentine, somewhat nervously, tipped it’s hat in that direction. 

Hancock snickered and looked up at Danse. The paladin tensed and glared down at him. “Don’t get many brotherhood out this way.”

Danse bites back his first, second, and third terse responses that would likely not endear himself to his traveling companions. “I can’t imagine why.” He states flatly.

The ghoul grins, a sudden flash of white teeth in his scarred, melted face. “So what brings you kids to my humble town?”

“We’re going to see Amari.” Valentine starts to walk off, clearly wanting to put some space between itself and the assaultron that Hancock set it on a date with. Instead of losing the ghoul, it followed along.

“Amari, huh? That wise, Nicky?” The ghoul looked over it’s shoulder at Danse, who mouths a silent ‘try me’ at it. “You’re not my type, crew cut.”

“It’ll be fine.” Vera cuts in, following after Valentine closely. “Danse isn’t an asshole to you if you’re not an asshole to him, I’m not rabid, and Nick is a paragon of polite society and we’re thrilled to have him.”

As they walk Danse takes the time to observe Goodneighbor and add it to the mental report he prepares for the Elder. The town is decently defended and can hold its own against most manners of attack, but a well placed vertibird drop could clear it out without too much trouble. The inhabitants seemed to mostly be low lifes, junkies and ghouls and the other dregs of society that couldn’t function in a civilized fashion. Any fight this town could put up against the brotherhood with be a futile resistance. 

The building that they’re going to appears to have been a pre-war theater or burlesque, judging from the ‘girls girls girls’ sign posted on the front. The interior is in the typical state of disrepair, what once was a grand lobby is now filled with strange egg shaped pods. Some are empty, but others are filled with patrons who lay supine within. Towards the back of the room a woman reclines in a dramatic fashion on a lounge.

“Well, well. Mister Valentine.” She drawls as they get near, eyes only for Valentine. “I’d thought you’d forgotten about little ol’ me.” 

The synth shuffles it’s feet and grins at the woman from under his fedora. “May’ve walked out of the den, Irma, but I’d never walk out on you.” By the end of his-its response Valentine’s voice had dropped to a low, seductive rumble. Damn the insitute for making synths in the first place, and double-damn them for making one who could flirt so easily when Danse couldn’t get one smooth word out.

Irma tipped her head to the side and sighed happily. “Amari’s downstairs, you big flirt.” She playfully slapped at him when he walked by.

As they walked down the stairs Vera cooed a little “Ooooh~” at Valentine and waggled her eyebrows. “I see why you don’t flirt with me. You’ve already got a girl, huh? She’s pretty. I like the dress.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t ‘flirt’ with you, ‘cause I know you’re trouble. Besides, I’m old enough to be your father. And with all the times I drag your behind out of the fire I’m starting to feel like I’m babysitting. Doctor Amari!”

“Ouch. Kid-zoned.” Vera mumbled as she followed him into the basement. Danse carefully stepped in after her surveyed the room. There were a few of the same pods from upstairs, otherwise the room looked like a workshop cobbled together from various functioning bits of pre-war computer systems. 

Whatever question Amari asked Vera was answered in a sarcastic fashion. Eventually the bit of Kellog’s brain was brought out and handed over and the doctor offered a plan to use Valentine as a conduit to view the memories. For the first time since they stepped into the Memory Den Vera appears apprehensive.

“This sounds a little... Bad Science-y, Nick. Are you sure?” She asks softly, hand hovering near his face. He-It leans into her hand, then reaches up with it’s mechanical hand to hold hers for a moment.

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll be fine. Your kid’s on the line. It’s worth the risk.” The synth sat down in a chair and Amari busied herself behind it, popping off the worn gray backing to it’s head and wiggling the new circuitry in.

“Ah, am I supposed to go blind?” Valentine asks after it’s eyes go dark.

“Not at all. Keep talking to me and I’ll figure it out.”

Valenine keeps talking and it’s eyes flash back on, but it’s speech starts to become garbled. Something pulls at Danse’s arm and he looks down to find Vera, wrapping her arms around one of his and staring at Valentine unblinkingly. How terrible this must be to watch for her, she cares for the synth and it’d been so adamant about helping her. He doesn’t like Valentine and feels sympathetic watching it’s face twitch as Amari works on it.

“It’s going to be all right.” Danse assures her softly, shifting his arm up and grabbing one of her hands. He can’t smooth talk like Valentine, this sort of an act is all he can manage. Her hand is tiny in the fist of his gauntlet, but she holds onto it with both of her hands. 

Amari gets Valentine squared away, but there’s some sort of a lock on the memories. An even more ‘bad science-y’ idea is floated of connecting the pair via memory loungers. “I have to question the validity of your credentials at this idea.” Danse argues loudly because he’s traveled with Vera long enough to know that she’ll stop at nothing to find her child, and plugging herself in with institute tech is in that wheelhouse.

“It’ll be fine, Danse. So I’m gonna be in Nick’s brain, huh? I’m not gonna see you in any compromising positions, am I?” She grins at the Synth.

Not the best idea, from how his day had been going. “If a smart mouth was all it took to solve problems, we’d’ve found your son by now.” He snapped with enough vitriol to make Vera step back a bit. It was possibly the most cruel thing thing that Danse had ever heard Nick say. 

Vera put her hands up in surrender and sat in the memory lounger pod. “Point to Valentine. Now is not the time for sarcasm, I understand that now.”

“Sorry.” Valentine settles into his own lounger pod and looks chagrined.

“No need to apologize, I respect the sass.” 

The glass comes down and Danse walks closer to Amari so that he can see what’s going on. The doctor looks annoyed but doesn’t tell him to stop off, instead guiding her charges through the labyrinth of Kellogg’s memories.

“This seems familiar.” Vera’s voice has an odd echo to it as she responds through the interface system. The memory is one of Kellogg going down a narrow hallway after the men that had killed his wife and child.

“He had a hard past.” Amari says solemnly. “I can’t imagine...”

“I can. And thanks to him, I’m having a real hard present.”

A few memories later and Danse recognizes the cyro room of Vault 111. The various pods unthaw and he can hear their inhabitants beating on the glass, begging to be let out. Questioning vault tech, wondering about what had happened. Vera shadows Kellogg closely as they walk down to the end pod. All she can look at is her baby, she doesn’t focus on Kellogg shooting her husband. Just the child in the scientist’s arms.

She doesn’t look away from that until Kellogg walks across to her pod and peers in. “At least we still have the backup.” He sneers. Inside, Vera’s hands are pressed flat against the pod and it’s strange how different she looks then. Hair set in gentle waves around her face, skin smooth without rad lesions or the scars that the wasteland had given her, cosmetics coloring her face and accenting her favors. The only thing really the same is her eyes as they dart across Kellogg’s face, memorizing everything that they could. The pod freezes her like that.

"Even then, I knew it was a mistake leaving her alive. I understood that kind of revenge, no one better. But I was cocky enough to assume I could handle some soft prewar Vault dweller, even if she got thawed out.” Kellogg’s memory of the moment is almost wistful.

The memory after that is odd, Kellogg standing with a group of scientists watching a screen. “Don’t know why the old man sent the order out to the vault. Guess he figured that the backup wasn’t needed anymore. Maybe he wanted to see how she’d do against the world, get some data out of her death.” Kellogg voices over the scene as he watches the screen where Vera, clad in her vault suit with a few pieces of leather armor strapped over it, heads down the hill towards Concord. Danse marvels at how they can watch her like that, how the video moves quickly for different angles.

“That’s... the day I could get out of Sanctuary. I’d been so sick it took me a week to get strength back. But I didn’t see anyone there.” She leans in closer to the screen, ignoring all other scientists in favor of that.

They watch Vera slowly approach the raiders, then rapidly engage them once they shoot at her. She fights her way up to the museum with a single minded ferocity, picking up the laser musket when Preston pointed it out. “There’s more of those guys in there? They shot me, so I gotta kill everyone they know now.”

“Well, we’re not going to shoot you.” Preston called down.

“Great! I’ll come get you, new best friend.”

She disappeared inside the building and the scientists started to chat among themselves. A few bets placed on how long she’d last, what would kill her. Most thought that the increased radiation would cause her to either mutate or just die. She’d handled one group of raiders with a few injuries, but there were plenty of other dangers in the commonwealth to be had. A few seemed excited about this experiment, it’d ‘be entertaining’. The only one who doesn’t talk is an older bearded man who just watches the screen with crossed arms.

The chatting ends when the video rapidly moves up and onto a roof as Vera kicks open a door and stalks out, fusion core in hand. She savagely moves to the intact power armor, inserts the core, and crawls in. After that she rips a minigun off of the vertibird and hops down to the street to take on the raider reinforcements.

“She’s resourceful. Not that it’ll help her for long. You can’t scavenge an increased resistance to radiation.” One scientist laughed. The older scientist remains silent.

All fall silent when a deathclaw claws it’s way out of the sewers, savaging a few raiders in it’s path. Vera ducks behind the rusted hunk of a car and allows it to take out a few more before jumping out to engage it. It tries to take her down, manages to gouge into her helmet and chest plate with it’s claws, but falls to a well placed grenade igniting one of the corvega hunks.

The memory of Vera stands over the dead deathclaw and rips her helmet off, bleeding from the deathclaw wounds and a broken nose. She spits bloody salavia onto the corpse before shrieking up at Preston. “You see this shit?” She calls, gesturing wildly to the corpse as she does. “I got a damn kid to find and the world’s throwin’ this shit at me?! Don’t give a shit, I’ll kill whatever’s in my way till I find that scar faced fucker who stole my baby!” She ends the tirade with a loud scream and smacks the deathclaw corpse a few more times with her helmet.

Silence on the feed and in the room. “Feel better?” Preston calls down from his place on the balcony. 

“Yeah.”

Bets in the room changed, taking down a deathclaw was nothing to sneeze at. The old man finally speaks. “A mother’s love. How inspiring.” Vera turns to inspect the man better, he’d been easy to overlook. But the memory is fading and the one that follows is far more engaging.

There’s a boy sitting on the ground, a blonde haired boy with wide blue eyes and a soft face and Vera gasps at the sight of him. It’s up to Amari and Danse to listen to what Kellogg and the visitor say, because Vera’s too enraptured by the sight of the boy.

“Look at him. It’s Shaun. He’s older, but- he’s got my eyes. Nate was right.” Vera laughs and it’s such a soft, innocent joy that she expresses. “He’s alive. He’s... In the Institute.” The memory starts to fade. “Amari, could I- Can you just... Please?”

Amari fiddles with her station for a minute and the scene goes back and freezes with Shaun on the ground surrounded by comics and magazines. “Take your time. I’ll awaken Mister Valentine.”

“Thank you.”

Amari leaves her plugged in and unhooks Nick. The Synth looks worse for wear and excuses himself before Amari advises him to, stumbling up the stairs nosily. Danse hears him hit a few walls. “You’ll wake her?” Danse asks Amari as he eyes the stairs.

“Of course. Are you...?” Danse nods and heads up after Valentine. He’s loathe to admit it, but... Somehow, through the travels through the commonwealth, he’s become fond of the machine. Danse knows it’s an affront to the teachings of the Brotherhood, but watching him literally risk his own mind to help a friend in their cause was another tally on the growing list of positives for Nick Valentine.

It was like the people of Diamond City had said: Synths are bad, but ‘Nicky’ was good people. This revelation wasn’t one he’d ever expected to have.

Nick sits by the entrance to the Memory Den, tucked a bit out of the way from Irma’s worried eyes. He’s muttering angrily to himself, hands shaking so badly that he can’t light the cigarette pinched between his metal fingers. “Not really in the mood to deal with you.” Nick snaps at him.

“Too bad. Here.” Danse holds his hand out for the box of matches, nimbly striking one when he received it. He lit the cigarette for Nick and returned the box. He had no idea why a synth would feel the need to smoke, but he also didn’t see why humans did. “Are you... Having issues with your operating ability?”

Valentine looks a bit mystified, but reclines against the wall. “Things are a little fuzzy, yeah. Should’ve stayed down there longer, but... Couldn’t. Just the feel of that slimy merc in my head... Ugh.” He grimaces. “Overheard a lot more of his thoughts than I’d like to have.”

“Mm. That was... Very brave of you.” Danse sighed and spent a moment arraigning the words in his head so they’d come out right. “I am Brotherhood, you are Synth. You are, inherently, an example of science gone wrong. However,” He rushes ahead because, wow, this is not sounding good to his ears despite what his brain had told him. “As long as you act as you do, I don’t see you to be a threat in need of eradication. You have proven yourself to be trustworthy.”

Nick looks up at him, tapping his cigarette out on an ashtray. “I can live with that. Same to you, though.” They nodded to each other, common ground established. “Our girl downstairs?”

“She needed more time.” 

“Of course.”

Danse stands beside him as Valentine works through a few cigarettes and his tremors stop. Vera ascends the stairs and floats towards them, beaming and looking more happy than Danse had ever seen her to be.

When he sees her, Valentine sits up a bit straighter and when she comes close enough his mouth speaks words that aren’t his. “Heh. I was right about you. Should’ve killed you when you were on ice.”

Well, there went the idea of ‘trust the synth’.

Vera pays him no mind, just reaches over and pats the Synth on the face. “Hey, Nicky. You in there?”

Nick grabbed her hand and held it there for a moment. “Yeah, I... Yeah. S-sorry, doll. Amari said somethin’ about there bein’ remnants left over. Guess I gotta purge some code in here.”

“Mmm. We’ll get a room and set out tomorrow. I’ll have to stock up on some Rad-x.” Vera takes his hand and pulls Nick to his feet. “Not sure I could find a rad suit...”

“I could inquire with Ingram about a loan of a suit of power armor.” Danse pondered as they left the Den. “We have few extra suits, but getting information on the institute would be worth it.”

“Yeah, my set of T45 isn’t exactly rad proof now that it’s got the holes in it... Should really repair that someday.” Hotel Rexford was down the street and Danse did his best to ignore Goodneighbor’s dregs as they walked along. They passed a few of the watch looking over a dead body, muttering about Synths. Good on them for being able to catch one in their midst.

They rent a room and drop things off, Nick settling himself in a chair to start on some diagnostics. “I don’t think he likes admitting he sleeps.” Vera murmured, smiling fondly as she unrolled her bedroll. The mattresses offered at least some cushion from the hard floor, but you’d probably catch something by sleeping on them. “I was thinking, when Nick wakes up I wanna head over to the Third Rail for a drink. You game?”

“I’m surprised you got the bar by name when we passed.” Danse thought on it, he had a set of casual clothes in his pack. Occasionally brother and sisters would go to towns and attempt to infiltrate. After a particularly disastrous occasion that ended with himself and Cutler having to run from town he’d not been permitted that duty. Still, it would be nice to have a beer and relax a bit.

“Hancock told me about it. And after today I’m not sure if I wanna dream or not. Seeing my boy, even as a child instead of a baby, was amazing.” Her voice warms and she hugs her arms to her chest. “But there’s a lot to think about.”

“I won’t insult you by saying that I understand how you feel. But please know that I’ll be here for you.” Danse says softly before exiting his power armor.

“Thank you, Danse.”

Their casual outfits are similar, though Danse simply wears denim pants and a shirt while Vera has scavenged a leather jacket in her size. Nick finishes his diagnostic and politely refuses their invitation to come citing a need for rest. “Besides, I’ll guard the room in case anyone decides to fuss around. You have fun now, kids.”

“Thanks Dad. I’ll have him home by midnight. Won’t do nothing you wouldn’t do.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The bar is a reclaimed subway station, debris blocking off either side of the track. A woman dressed in a sequin gown sings from the corner while patrons putter around at their tables. “Grab us a table I’ll grab the booze. Any preference?”

“Cold. Failing that, lager.” Vera gives him a salute and goes to deal with the Mr. Handy bartender. He finds a table near to the singer and sits. At the bar Vera gets one brown bottle and uncaps a bottle of nuka cola, taking a few drinks before having it topped off by the bartender from a clear bottle. 

She hums happily as she returns, offering him the bottle. “Lager it is.” Vera sits at her chair and sips her drink, raising her eyebrows and raising it towards the bartender. “I think he likes me, that’s some strong hooch.”

“Most people tend to like you.” The lager is good, not one he’s tried before. The label is a homemade scrawl with a crudely drawn deathclaw proclaiming it to be named ‘Deathbrau’. ‘Proud product of Goodneighbor’, apparently. “You charm everyone.”

Vera grins and rests her elbows on the table, leaning over it a bit. “Flatterer.” She takes a long drink from her bottle and sets it down. “So. You’re getting to know a good bit of my past. Care to even up the exchange of information?”

“I... Am afraid that I am not quite as interesting as you are.” Danse drummed his fingers on the table. “I... grew up in the wastes. Alone. When I was older I made it to Rivet City and opened a junk shop. Eventually Cutler and I joined the Brotherhood. I’m not going to lie, it was his idea and we were mostly in it for the room and board.” Danse busied himself in peeling the homemade label from the bottle. “But it grew into much more than that. They’re family. The Prydwen is the only home I feel like I’ve ever known.”

“Cutler?”

Of course she asks about him. It’s hard to explain Cutler in words, but he tries. “He was my best friend. We’d go out into the ruins and get scrap for the shop. He was, heh, looking back he was an asshole.” Had they been any less lucky, his escapades would have gotten them thrown out of Rivet City or killed by the guards. “But he was a loyal, good man that did not deserve the end that came to him.”

It looks like she wants to question further but refrains, finishing her drink instead. “Get another round and we’ll toast to him.”

Cutler would’ve either loved her or loved teasing Danse about her. It would’ve been mortifying and, damn, Danse wished that he was there. He nodded tersly to her and went to the bar to get another round. He decided to try the Nuka-Shine as well and carried both bottles back to the table.

They toast to Cutler and Danse coughs a bit before inspecting the bottle as if it will tell him the secrets of whatever alcohol was poured into it. “I have suspicions that the bartender is serving us paint stripper.”

“Told ya. Good shine.” Vera leaned back in her chair and waved at someone, Danse turned to see Hancock drifting through the bar. The ghoul smirks in their direction but doesn’t come over thankfully. “Mmm. I can’t imagine what growing up alone would have been like, especially in the ‘wastes’. My family immigrated to the States from the USSR before I was born. I had my parents and my two brothers.”

It was always fascinating to hear her talk about the past. “Quite a large family.”

Vera crinkled her nose. “Too small for Papa.” She practically sneers the word and seems unaware that she does so. Bad blood, apparently. “We were little disappointments. Genya was almost seven foot tall and looked like a human punch and he was the biggest pacifist you’d ever meet. Volya was gorgeous and brilliant and impulsive enough to make me look reasonable; Papa spent most of his time covering up his arrests. And I’m female which is, was, an automatic failure in Papa’s eyes.”

“You don’t believe that, right?” The more Danse drinks the Nuka-shine the better it tastes. Never a good sign. “That your gender diminishes your worth?”

She raises her brows and shoots him a sassy look. “Danse I am the most overconfident, self absorbed person I know. I know he was full of shit. I left home when I was of age, found one of Papa’s military friends and got him to put me in a pet project. Genny got shot protesting the war while I was out fighting it, and Volya got himself shot going after the man who did it. I, hah, lost my head a bit when I heard the news and got kicked out on my ass. Met Nate. Got married. Had Shaun. Had a really, really shitty two hundred year old day.” She laughed a bit at herself. “But this is terrible bar talk. I’m killing the mood.”

“Not at all. Any time spent with you is enjoyable.” Vera looks surprised at his words and frankly he is too, they come out smooth and polished.

She.. Actually blushes a little. Danse considers that a major point to himself. “Well then. I’ll have to keep talking if you find it to be so enjoyable.” The perfect moment is shattered when a loud verbal fight breaks out in a side room and the ghoul bouncer rushes down the stairs and into the room. He’s thrown out again a moment later. “You ever been in a bar fight, Danse?” Vera asks as she stands up.

“Yes. I assume we’re starting one?” He follows her over to the room, grabbing a chair as he enters. Inside the room two gunners are harassing a small framed rat faced man. “Gunners.” Danse says with disgust.

One gunner turns to Danse and sneers at him. “Just having a private conversation. Why don’t you stay out of it?”

“Stopped being private when you threw Hammy out into the bar. I advise you step out and shut up and let us drink in peace.” Vera looked up at the gunners with arms crossed across her chest. 

The sneer became more pronounced as the gunner focused on the small woman. “What, you gonna make us, bitch?”

Vera looks to Danse and beams, taking a few confidant steps over to the man with the O+ tattoo on his forehead. She reaches up abruptly and grabs him by the ears, pulling his head down and she brings her own head up into his nose. “Yup!”

“Bitch!” O+ hisses again as he swings a punch. A+ takes a fatal moment to deliberate taking on Danse, rat-face, or helping his stupid friend and Danse solves that problem for him by smacking him with the chair he’d brought in for this purpose.

Rat face scoffs at the move. “C’mon, man, you’re like twice his size. Didn’t need to take him out with a chair.”

“You are correct. But I wanted more time to watch.” Danse gestures to the fight between Vera and O+ which has now moved to a no-holds barred wrestle on the floor. Vera’s doing well for herself, but she always has been savage in close combat.

“Call me bitch one more time!” She taunts, finally getting a good grip on O+’s face. Her thumb slides up the side of his nose and presses against his eye. “I’ll pop the damn eye right out your face!”

As the gunner squirms and struggles under her Vera shifts about to hold her position, keeping him firmly under control. Danse can’t help but grin at her, his heart skips a beat. He’s got a thing for people in charge. “Has anyone told you how good you look dealing with low-lifes?” He asks, leaning against the wall.

“Aww, you hear that? Helping me earn brownie points. What’cha think, Danse? Should I make our loud friend here a cyclops?” There’s a cough from the door and the bouncer’s there with another figure looming behind. “Hey Hammy, you want me to take out this guy’s eye?”

Ham looks like he considers it for a moment before growling in the negative. Danse reaches a hand down to help her up and she accepts it, making sure to step hard down on O+ when she gets to her feet. Ham collects the conscious man first and drags him out into the night before returning for the unconscious one.

“One hell of a scrapper, sister.” Hancock snickers from the shadows by the door. “You gonna tell Nick you started a bar fight?”

“Pffft, barely a fight. And not a real bar fight, the whole bar wasn’t involved. C’mon, boys. The night’s still young.” She grabs rat-face by the front of his shirt and drags him out behind her.

Hancock buys a round before leaving them to their own devices, taking a moment to wish Vera good luck. The round he bought was nearly pure ‘shine with a bit of Nuka Cola to water it down. The rat faced man, MacCready, takes one drink of his and slides it over to Danse.

Danse would later pinpoint that as when the night got out of hand.

Somehow Vera manages to hire the man after hearing a bit of his past (Apparently he grew up in a cave system. When she heard that Vera had assured him that she and Danse would be his parents now.) They didn’t leave the bar until it closed for the night, stumbling back to the hotel.

It’d been a good night, one long needed. To make it better, Vera’s arms are wrapped around his torso tightly as they use one another for stability. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a working elevator tonight.” She mumbles against his side as they stand at the foot of the stairwell. “C’mon, let’s just take it slow.”

“It’ll give your reporter friend quite the story. ‘Minutemen General and Brotherhood Paladin killed by stairs’.” Danse grunted as he collided with the side of the stairwell. A few steps later and he was hitting the other side.

It was an ordeal to get to the room and Danse leaned against the wall beside their room’s door to catch his breath. Vera mirrors his action and looks up at him with a slight smile on her face. She reaches up and twines her fingers together behind his neck, pulling him down as she wobbily stretches up on her toes. He starts to lean down further to meet her, and-

The door beside them opens and Nick sticks his head out, and the synth is not at all impressed at their state. “It’s three in the damn morning. Stop acting like teenagers and get inside.”

“Auuuugh.” Vera groaned, leaning forward and smacking her face against Danse’ chest. The Paladin just glares as best he can at the synth, likely not effective due to his intoxicated state. “Hate you, Nick.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He stepped inside and Vera started backing up after him, apparently unwilling to give up her hold on Danse. He follows after her with an awkward shuffle.

Nick had rolled out their sleeping bags and set things up while they’d been out, so all there was to do was kick off shoes and lay down. He hears Nick shuffling about after he gets down, but a moment later Vera’s sprawled across his chest, using him as her pillow. She pats his chest once or twice, mumbling something.

The previous night’s escapades catch up with Danse abruptly the next morning when he wakes. The sunlight is too bright and the air too stale, and he’s trapped under someone who’s wrapped around him like a vine. Closing his eyes against the harshness of the sun he tries to disconnect himself from what he assumes is Vera wrapped around him, but she’s immovable. 

Well. It looked like that was his life now. Laying on his back, nauseated and disoriented, pinned down. But there’s a shuffle of fabric somewhere to his left, a set of hands pulling Vera up. “C’mon, doll, let the man move.”

Vera just growled in response, but allowed the Synth to transplant her onto her actual pillow. Danse mumbled a thanks to Valentine before stumbling off to the bathroom. Danse contemplates just living the rest of his life out in the dark room but a knock eventually rouses him out. “C’mon, Danse. I got coffee brewin’. You want eggs?”

Nick took Danse’ groan to be an affirmative and by the time that Danse had collected himself enough to leave the bathroom the coffee pot was sitting on a stained tea towel and Valentine was cooking eggs on a hot plate. In his absence Vera had burrowed down into both of their sleeping bags and made herself a nest.

“Nat’s never complained about my cooking, but that girl’ll eat anything.” Valentine put Danse’ plate and mug down at the room’s small table and gestured for him to sit.

The eggs were simple but not burnt, which was more than he could say for anything he was used to cooking for himself. The coffee, however, made him pause even in his hungover state. “This tastes... Odd.”

“Fresh.” Nick clarified. “Makin’ use of what little hydroponics vault 111 had to grow it. In theory it was gonna be a trading item, but that never happened. C’mon, kid, get up. I’m gonna feed Danse all your coffee.”

The lump under the sleeping bags mumbled a long, garbled strand of unintelligible words that ended with a very loud ‘THAT DICK’. Nick snorted and started to prod her with one foot, rocking her back and forth. “Nicholas I will break you.”

“C’mon. I got cases in Diamond City, you need to get your house in order for the trip to the glowing sea. Can’t do that in bed.” Nick rocked her a few more times, backing off when an arm escaped her nest and flailed around at him.

“Why did I drag you out of that vault, clam-damming son of a bitch.” A second arm followed the first and Vera slowly pulled herself out of bed. She sat on the floor and blinked around, taking the cup of coffee when Valentine offered it to her. “...The fuck did we drink last night?”

“Moonshine.”

“Aw, hell.”

Valentine looks less than impressed. “Christ, you two had Goodneighbor moonshine? You could strip paint with that. What other poor decisions did you make?”

Vera sipped her coffee and squinted at the wall. “...I think I hired a cave child. Did I hire a cave child?”

“You said he was our son. He kept informing you that he was twenty two but you weren’t having it. If I remember right you told him he was grounded.” MacCready had looked torn between laughing and damning his general luck. “I hit a gunner with a chair, right?”

“Haha yeah it was great. Ham owes us a drink next time.”

Nick, meanwhile, had buried his face in his hands. If he’d thought Danse would temper the worst of Vera’s mania he had been mistaken. He was but one man against a radstorm.


	7. B52, Cosmic Shack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Danse. There are no secrets in the Brotherhood."

“I’m beginning to think that I should’ve just found a hazmat suit.”

“With how you fight? You’d puncture it in ten minutes and get irradiated.”

Maxson had been convinced to loan out a suit of armor to the General when she explained their lead. It honestly surprised Danse at how easily he agreed but he was as eager as Vera was to get information on the Institute and she had no problem sharing what information she could find.

Vera currently stood where she had for the past two hours, inside of a power armor frame with himself and Ingram fitting it to her. While it was possible to use a frame not fitted to your form, outliers on the large or small side found immeasurable problems. She’d initially slipped and slid around the frame, being several inches too short and far too narrow. She could walk and manipulate the gauntlets, but something as simple as losing her footing could spell disaster.

“What I wouldn’t give for my set of T51-B. Hardest thing about leaving the military was leaving that behind. Gremlin had it fit to me perfect, felt like a second armored skin.”

Danse tightened a bolt on her arm and had her test out the right gauntlet. That was a much better fit. “This set is superior in every way to a T51-B and you know it.”

“When you’re built like a barn, yeah.” Vera replied, and Danse thought ‘Here we go again’ to himself. “You can carry off the T60 with ease because you’re built for it, what with those broad shoulders. I don’t have the musculature to carry off a wide, heavy suit. Anywhere I can scrape off inches and pounds does me better.”

“A T51 suit is barely lighter than a T60 suit and the few dozen pounds you’ll save isn’t worth the lesser armor. And you claim that the T60 handles worse, but that’s your bias and lack of training working against you. Give it some time and you’ll turn on a cap.” Danse finished tightening the bolts on her gauntlet and Vera repaid him by ‘testing’ it out by flipping him a middle finger. “Outstanding, your motor control is already improving.”

Ingram snorts and Danse realizes with a start that he’d been so into his banter that he’d forgotten she was there. “He’s right, you know. With training you’d be operating at T60 at whatever proficiency that your skills would allow.” Everything that Danse manages with bare hands she does in her armor frame, and she makes it look effortless. “Even Danse here wasn’t an expert at the start, but now he’s one of our most talented solders. Manipulate this gauntlet.”

She does so clunkily, but her hands had full range of motion on the controls. “You knew him when he first joined? Sounds like I have someone to get intel from when he gets sassy.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Ingram advised as she methodically put her tools away. The frame was fit to her as well as they were going to get in a limited session. It wasn’t unheard of for Ingram to spend a several sessions spanning days to fit new Knights with their frames, but there was no point in getting that in depth for a suit that would be returning and likely placed on a larger person. “Once the plates are hung you can get on your way and out of mine.”

Vera shifted a bit, holding her arms out to ease the plate instillation. “What a shame. I think we’re really building a rapport, Ingram. I was going to ask you to go super mutant nuking with me later.” Ingram drops the torso armor over her shoulders with less care than she usually would, making Vera groan as the wind was knocked out of her. “You’re like the sister I never had.” She wheezes.

“Uh-huh.” Ingram is unimpressed. “Try not to die out there, I don’t want to have to send a team into the glowing sea to recover my armor. Though,” She sighs and looks to be in pain for a moment. “Having Danse as your guard will ensure you come back unless your own stupidity takes you down. I’ve worked with few finer men.”

This is the second compliment she’s paid him during the conversation and Danse is beyond flattered. “Thank you, Proctor.”

Ingram grunted and moved back to her own work, leaving Vera clad in the Brotherhood knight armor. She shifted from foot to foot, tossed her helmet in the air a few times. “I’m gonna have to take you up on that fitting for my T45 you’ve been harassing me about. Not getting my feet stuck in the leg frame is great.”

“We’ll make time. Elder.” Danse stood to attention as Maxson entered the deck. The Elder nodded to him and strode over to Vera, arms behind his back as he looked at her in the armor.

She just raised an eyebrow but held her tongue from any other comments. “Our colors suit you, General. It’s a shame you won’t be wearing them permanently.”

Ah, wonderful. Maxson was being especially diplomatic. “Thank you, Elder. Now that you’ve caught me in your regalia, one day I’m going to have to suit you up in a duster and hat.” Vera grins mischievously at the Elder. “Perhaps at Christmas.”

“Perhaps.” Maxson side-eyed Danse and coughed into his fist. “Has Paladin Danse been performing well?”

“I have no complaints as to his behavior. He’s reliable and skilled. I appreciate you letting me use his services.” 

“Good. I’ve always found Paladin Danse to be exemplary.” Maxson spares him a smile. First Ingram and now Maxson, apparently he’d been missed in his time away from the Prydwen. “I believe Cade wished to see you before you leave, Paladin.”

“I’ll stop in shortly. Thank you, Elder.” Danse’ mood fell a bit at the mention of Cade. Probably wanting to talk him into a voluntary leave of duty because of his ‘Post-Traumatic stress’. Danse respected the man’s ability, but staying behind while other men did his duty wouldn’t make him feel better.

Cade, however, didn’t seem to be focused on that. When they enter he turns his attention to Vera. “Would you be willing to submit a blood sample for testing?” He asks.

“Testing for what?”

“The usual communicable diseases: whooping cough, polio, measles. Hepatitis, syphilis. The usual.” Danse had been nodding along as he listed diseases until the last two. Their addition made his mind come to a screeching halt as it replayed how pained Ingram had looked when she repeatedly complimented him, Maxon’s high praise. Now this from Cade?

Oh God.

Everyone knew.

“If you’ll excuse me while you finish your business with Cade, I need to speak with the Elder about an urgent matter.” Danse quickly strode off without listening for an answer. He went above deck and knocked on Maxson’s chambers. If he wasn’t there there were other places to check-

Maxson opened his door and allowed Danse to enter, raising a brow at him. “I’d assumed that you’d be headed back to the commonwealth soon-”

“Is my infatuation with the General common knowledge with the Prydwen crew?”

“Danse, there are no secrets in the Brotherhood. We want to make sure she knows your best qualities.” Maxson smirks at him. “Ingram told me that she had talked you up to her. I’m certain others on board will as well.”

The Elder didn’t understand the severity of the problem. “Cade,” Danse started, gritting his teeth and coloring a deep red from embarrassment, “asked her to do an STD test.”

Maxson tries and fails to cover his mouth before he snorts loudly with laughter. “I’m sorry, that’s awful.” He chokes out while snickering loudly at Danse’ expense. “He has your best interests at heart.”

“He will not need to worry about my interests because she is going to murder me in my sleep.” To say that Danse was mortified was a massive understatement, but his stomach fell further at another thought. “Are you loaning her the armor because of my infatuation?”

That finally sobered Maxson who grimaced a bit. “I was convinced to give her a second chance because of how highly you regard her.” Maxson said carefully, which didn’t sound like a dismissal of his suspicion. “Should this mission be a success I will view her more favorably. To speak plainly: I trust your judgment, Danse. Despite how much I may personally dislike her, you’re the one who’s traveled with her in the commonwealth and she has to have done something to deserve your infatuation.”

Danse sighed and rubbed his face. All right. He could deal with this.

“Besides,” Maxson clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “This makes us even for the Citadel.” 

Teasing young Maxson over his crush on Sara Lyons seemed like lifetimes ago. Danse was tempted to argue that Sara hadn’t been the type of woman to harm someone over teasing but that would be a futile argument. Maxson had told him once that he thought she was fantastic because she showed him how to kill a man by stabbing out his kidneys. 

“You know... You should get back to her before Brandis gets to her. The man’s firmly in your corner.” The smile on his face was downright mischievous and his words made Danse realize, with utter horror, that he’d left her alone on a ship filled with people who both liked him and were likely to meddle.

Danse rushes out of the room without being released, decorum be damned, and is followed by the echos of Maxson’s laughter. Vera isn’t with Cade, but the man points Danse towards the mess hall. He finds her there, still in her borrowed armor and perched precariously on a sturdy chair as Brandis talks to her.

“Ah, Danse, we were just talking about you!” Brandis motions for him to sit down.

“Of course you were.” Danse didn’t take a seat, and Vera made no move to get up. Of course she didn’t.

“Brandis was telling me about your rescue of him. Very resourceful, Paladin.” The grin on her face was terrible. “Sit down, Danse.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like a tour of the ship.” Danse can feel every eye in the mess hall on him and had no doubt that gossip would resume as soon as he was out of the room. “The view of the commonwealth is worth it.”

Thankfully that got her to stand. Vera gently put a gauntlet on Brandis’ shoulder. “Thank you for your time, Paladin. May your recovery continue. Lead on, Danse.”

Danse lead her out of the mess hall, ignoring the soft ‘oooh’ that followed after them. Then it was up onto the main flight deck, then out onto the walkways. There was a spot seldom used at one end of the docking area that would do well for a good chat. There’d likely still be people spying for gossip, but they wouldn’t get much over the sound of the Prydwen’s engines and the vertibirds idling.

How to start the conversation, however? ‘I’m sorry our doctor asked to test you for transmittable diseases’ didn’t sound like a good way to start the conversation. Mulling words over in his head he gripped the railing and glared out at the commonwealth as if it was responsible for this problem.

“So...” Vera leaned backwards on the railing and grinned over at him. “You’ve got a ship full of brothers and sisters that really think you need to get laid.”

He’d survive the drop to the ground no problem. That was looking preferable to having this conversation. Danse leaned further over over the railing and weighed his options, sighing before rubbing his face with both hands. “When did you realize that? Because it took me till Cade-”

Vera snorted and unlike Maxson made no attempt to hide her laughter. “Your face was hilarious then, Danse. Honestly though, when every eye was on us and Maxson was being polite and complimentary tipped me off.”

“I was naive and thought you both had decided to bury the hatchet.” Danse tugged his hood off and ruffled his hair, needing to cool down a bit. “So. How many people do you think are spying on us right now?”

Vera grinned up at him before reaching up to ruffle his hair as well. “Oh, there’s a few up top. That last vertibird pilot has binoculars.” Outstanding. “I’m clean, in case you were wondering.”

Clean? Why would- oh. “Duly noted, should we ever find ourselves in that position. I am as well.” Danse is certain that he’s absolutely scarlet. “I hadn’t realized you were interested in that sort of... Exercise.” He adds, trying to lace his words with sarcasm. Please, let her pick up that he was being sarcastic in order to lighten the mood.

“You’re serious? Danse.” Vera rolled her eyes and grinned up at him, biting her lower lip a moment. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen since I stepped out of the vault. I have an absolute carnal desire for you.”

“I.... Oh.” He drags a hand over his face as if that’ll calm the blushing down. “I appreciate your candor.” ‘Carnal desire’ was a situation he could deal with, though that exact phrase had never been used towards him. Infatuation and desire were simple, fleeting emotions that rarely lasted long. It’d always suited him in the past.

She nods and shifts her weight off of the railing to stand taller. “I thought that you would. You tend to react best when I speak my mind plain. So.” She laughed a bit, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. “I really wish Nick hadn’t opened the door in Goodneighbor the other night.”

“We could remedy that.” And they’d have a much more suitable backdrop for a first kiss. Those had been special once, back in the day, right?

“I don’t know. It is a beautiful view, but...” She turns back towards the ship and calls out: “I’m not going to kiss you, Danse, because we’ve got an audience.”

A few beats of silence, then they hear a soft ‘Dangit...’ echo back.

She laughs as she turns back to him, never more beautiful than in that moment. Scarred, pock marked, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and so utterly glowing with life. “C’mon. Let’s find that pilot and head back down to the Castle.”

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest and it’s like time slows down for a moment as he reaches out to grab her hand and pull her a step back. “Wait.” He tells her, raising his hand to tip up her chin as she turns around. He wishes that they weren’t both clad in power armor, that he could feel the touch of her skin. “I don’t care if anyone’s watching.” He moves no farther than that, giving her a way out if she wants one.

She doesn’t move, just stares up at him with that little smirk he’s come to know. “I’m waiting.”` It’s like Vera doesn’t expect him to go through with it, that he’ll back down or stammer off.

This is a battle that he refuses to back down from; nothing ventured and nothing gained. Danse leans down and it’s awkward with both of their armors, but he’s always been adept at making things work. He’s certain that, right until the last moment, she thinks he’ll pull back. 

It’s strange that there are moments in life where time slows and small details are easily noticed. The way her eyebrows raise in surprise when he leans in that final bit paired with sharp inhale, the equally sharp clank as their chest armor connects. Her lips are rough against his, she smells like oil and leather and gunpowder and the sea all at the same time.

One kiss turns into another all too easily. Vera grabs onto the front grip of his armor, holding him down to her level. He pulls away only to breathe but doesn’t go to far, and he can’t help the wide grin that spreads over his face. Looking down at her, he can see that she’s the only good thing to come out of this entire ill fated trip to the commonwealth.

Vera’s flushed as well and grins up at him, giggling a bit. He can’t help it, he laughs as well. He feels light, like some weight has momentarily been taken off of his heart. She raises a hand to her mouth to rub her lower lip, misjudges the force needed to raise the gauntlet, and cracks herself hard in the mouth. “Sonofa-”

“Tssss, ouch.” Danse winced and grabbed her wrists as she went to instinctively cup her face. Vera continues to grimace and blink her eyes rapidly as they well with painful tears. “Armor control can get the better of you quickly. It’s not bleeding.”

“Great. Teeth chipped?” She asks, showing them off. Danse shakes his head in the negative. “Awesome. So all I’ll need is another kiss to make it better.”

“You are impossible.” He says with great affection, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “Now that I’ve entirely spoiled my reputation about the ship, we should head out.”

Vera snickered and pulled her wrists free from his hands, movements much more careful and reserved. Every recruit did something similar with their armor before they learned control, Cutler had broken both his own nose and Danse’. As they walked back towards the vertibirds Danse noticed how a few of the pilots were trying very hard to look casual.

Before they could set off a squire stopped them. “Paladin, sir. Lancer-Captain Kells needs to speak with you.” The boy looks to Vera and seems to be unable to place her face. “Ma’am.”

“Sir’s fine too.” Vera smiles and leans over a bit to inspect the lad. He can’t be more than ten, and perhaps that’s the cause of her sudden wistful look. “You’ve done your duty well, Squire. Acting as an asset to the Brotherhood already, I can’t imagine what you’ll do in the future.”

The boy beams at the praise before giving her a salute and dashing off. “Shaun’ll be about his age when I find him. Hell, with dealing with the scribes you have more experience in dealing with kids than I do.”

“Squires.” Danse corrects automatically, though he knew quite a few overly childish scribes. “You’ve displayed high competency with everything I’ve seen you do, I doubt that you’ll be able to fail. Besides, Preston is probably fantastic with children.”

“He is a goddamn marvel with kids.” Vera followed him up to the command deck, though she stayed back several paces respectfully while he approached Kells.

It wasn’t far back enough, judging by Kells glare. Well, fantastic. Danse found one person on the ship who wasn’t acting with the entire ‘Let’s help Danse with the girl he has an interest in’ plan. “There is a matter I would like your assistance with, Paladin, if you find yourself able to fit your Brotherood duties in with your extracurricular activities.”

Well, this was mortifying in a different way.

Danse hears the suit behind him sift, the knee actuator whining as it moves. “I’m surprised at your words, Lancer-Captain.” Because of course she can’t let that slide. Why would she behave and make his life a little easier? She had no ability to bow her head. “Paladin Danse has been performing exemplary work in accordance to Elder Maxson’ orders. Do you fault the orders of your Elder?”

“Of course not.” Kells raps a knuckle on Danse’ breastplate to get him to back up a few steps so nothing stands in the way of him and and the General. “I can find fault with Elder in few things. You, however, are an unknown and erratic individual whom I can see many in; the Paladin’s infatuation with you is the least of those.”

Danse sees a nearby scribe wince at him and shoot him a sympathetic look.

“Aaah, I see. You find me to be a terrible temptress, corrupting the poor innocent Paladin into manipulating the Elder then?” She thinks on that for a moment before shrugging and making a ‘not bad’ sort of expression. “Paladin Danse lives and breathes Brotherhood. I will take you high regard for my seductive prowess as a compliment.”

The silence on the bridge was thick enough to choke on. A few brothers and sisters who could manage to find something to do elsewhere escaped, leaving only those necessary to their posts and those who were very dedicated to ship gossip.

“Your flippant attitude earns you no favors.” 

Kells had dealt with many stubborn recruits in his tenure with the brotherhood, but Vera was no solider under his command who could be cowed. “Excellent. As I am not part of your organization I am not attempting to earn favors. You don’t have to like or respect me. If you want to think I’m slutting around with one of your men that’s fine.” Danse winces pretty heavily at that. “My only interest is continue to share resources with the Elder to destroy the institute and get back my boy. Is that an acceptable arraignment, Lancer-Captain?”

Kells snorted and looked at his paperwork. “As the Elder wills.” Other than that he gives her no response, turning to address Danse. From the grin on Vera’s face she seems to think herself the victor of the spat. Kells briefs Danse on the mission, missing supplies at the base.

Vera had drifted over to eye the paperwork and the list of names and ranks. “Not scavvers or raiders, Brotherhood defenses are above their skill level for this area.” She murmured, reaching up to hold her chin with a hand but thinking better at the last moment, grabbing onto the collar of her armor instead. “They’re stashing it somewhere. You’ll be looking for a young person, someone very green. No problems before hand means that their view on the Brotherhood changed recently. Look for someone with disciplinary problems after a recent battle. You’ll also want to question the youngest person with the most recent promotion, they’ll give up any Intel they have easy in hopes of making a positive impression.”

The Lancer-Captain raised his eyebrows in surprise at her assessment. “Initiate Clarke has been written up since the battle for the base. A surprisingly insightful view of the situation.”

Vera bared her teeth at him in a poor imitation of a smile. “What can I say? I’m a people person. I’ll wait for you in the mess, Paladin. It’s been a pleasure, Lancer-Captain.” She struts up towards the mess hall after that, not waiting for a response from either man.

“I will only speak on this matter once.” Kells said flatly to Danse. The paladin pulled himself up tall and waited whatever would be directed at him. “There are many eligible brothers and sisters who would be a much better idea than that. Do better.”

“Acknowledged.” Danse says simply and not taking that advice to heart at all.

His quick mission is a vertibird flight away. As advised, he seeks out Knight Lucia and asks her about Initiate Clarke. She’s eager to impress a superior officer and gives him more information than he would’ve received from her superior. Since the first tip from Vera had been so spot on he goes to the Initiate to question him.

Clarke tries to deny his involvement, but for once Danse’ glower is working in his favor. The young man goes to pieces with a sob story about feeling sorry for the ghouls. If this had solely been an ethics issue Danse would’ve felt pity for him: the young man wouldn’t have been the first to have a crisis after their first battle. But to steal food from the mouths of squires and solders to feed to ferals? Danse hauls him right up to the Prydwen and orders a team down to clear out the filth, ignoring the pained protests from Clarke.

 

Of course he finds Vera sitting with the Elder enjoying a smoke when he drags the initiate in. “Elder, this Initiate is responsible for the missing supplies from the base. He was using them to feed underground ferals.”

“Elder, sir, it wasn’t right! We just- We could’ve scared them off, we didn’t have to slaughter them as they ran away.” Clarke tries to argue his point, voice rising in panic. “If we feed them, they’ll stay out of the way and-”

“You would have us waste supplies feeding ferals?” Maxson replies flatly, both looking and sounding moments away from exploding. He takes a deep breath and looks to Vera of all places. “General, how would you deal with this situation? Give him insight into commonwealth style punishment.”

Vera kicked her boots up on the table and regards the initiate seriously. “If I found out one of the kids at the Castle was feeding ghouls in the access tunnels instead of reporting them, I’d have him staked out for the damn mirelurks. Ferals aren’t people or pets, kid.” Vera’s tone mimics Maxson’s, flat and uncompromising. “Ghoul or human, they lose their right to life when they think they got more of a right to eat my flesh than I do to wear it.”

Clarke looked between Maxson, Danse, and the General before he hung his head in shame. He was lead to the brig until he could be transported to Cambridge. “Toss him to the damn ferals he loves so much and don’t waste the resources holding him.” Vera advised, surprisingly vicious about the situation.

“That isn’t the Brotherhood way.” Danse shakes his head; he’s still having trouble justifying Clarke’s actions to himself. How could anyone think that ferals could be cooped up safely? Maxson dismisses them after and Vera recollects her borrowed suit of armor before they head towards the vertibirds.

It’s dark when their vertibird drops them off outside Diamond City and the city is oddly peaceful in the dark. “We could hit up the Dugout, or we could just turn in for the night.”

“Nick’s place?” Part of him still hates that he’s become so familiar with the Synth. Calling him by his first name, even.

Vera shakes her head and heads towards the residential section of the lower stands, getting out of her power armor to find a key on her belt and opening the door. Danse ducks down and surveys the scene inside. It’s a decent sized house with a lot of junk laying about. “Excuse the mess, I haven’t had time to clean up after the previous owners.”

“There is no need to apologize, I-” He’d moved towards the wall to take off his power armor, and once he’s out Vera shoves him up against the wall. He expects a fight for a moment before she’s pulling his head down and keeping her weight against him to keep him pinned. Danse could escape without problem, but this wasn’t the thing one wanted to escape.

The first kiss between them had been soft and careful, owing to their armor and location. This kiss, however, is much like the woman who initiated it. Sudden and forceful like an atom bomb, she’s passionate and demanding. Teeth occasionally nip at his lower lip, her hands thread through his hair to keep him down low. 

The angle his neck is craned at is painful. His hands slip from her hips to her behind, grabbing there instead so that he can lift her up off the ground. Her knees plant on the wall on either side of his waist as he supports her, her hands move to his shoulders as she pulls back from him for a moment to look down in surprise.

Danse fears that he’s misstep for a moment before the grin spreads over her face. “God, I love a strong man.” Vera’s hands move to cup his face almost tenderly, thumb tracing the thin scar across his lip. She leans in and softly kisses just that corner of his mouth, the gentleness a far cry from the impulsive passion just shown. More little kisses followed that first one, she peppers his face with them. 

“Mm.” The little affectionate pecks were enjoyable, he tips his chin up when her mouth moves to his neck. Part of him knew that he should end this dalliance, they had to set out early in the morning for the glowing sea and rest would be needed. But he also needs this; the physical affection she graces him with makes his heart race and his head swim. “We should retire for the evening.” He manages to say after a few more minutes.

She snickers against the skin of his neck and Danse feels her hand move down to the zipper of his suit, slowly pulling it down. “Oh? Eager to move ahead?”

He hadn’t meant it like that. “I..” He’d be lying if he didn’t want to carry her to wherever her bed was, pull off that vault suit and spend the night committing her body to memory. Duty came first, though this time begrudgingly. “We have to leave early in the morning. We can’t-” It’s damn near impossible for him to speak with her mouth on his neck, he clears his throat a bit and tries to get his thoughts in order. “We can’t devote the proper time to the... extracurricular activity.”

Quoting Kells’ words have the desired effect, she stops kissing his neck and snorts with laughter, finally pulling back from him. “You’re right. Lemmie down.” Danse slowly lowers her back down until her feet are firmly on the floor. “We’ll meet up with Nick early and get on the road. We’ve got a settlement near the edge of the glowing sea that we can use as a fallback point if needed, Somerville place.”

Danse admires how easily she gets back to business, he finds himself still distracted. “That sounds like an excellent plan.” He smooths his hair back but doesn’t bother to re-zip his suit and he can’t not notice how her eyes keep falling to stare at the skin revealed by it’s openness.

“There’s a shower in what I’m gonna turn into the kitchen if you need to use it. Water’s a bit eh, but it’ll get you clean. Bed’s upstairs.” She gestured towards the rickety stairs. “You don’t mind sharing, right?”

He hadn’t yet, but taking a shower beforehand would likely ease any ‘tensions’ he’d have. “I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed, General.” He pulled bathing supplies from his bag and found the shower station. It was open air by a drain in the floor. Overhead he could hear shuffling and fabric being rustled as Vera got ready for bed.

“I’d like to see you try to get between me and my mattress.” Phrasing, he wanted to warn her. Then again, the thought of him being between her and her mattress was a nice one to imagine. “Christ, I need to get a new mattress. Remind me to tell Preston, he’ll add it to my to do list.”

Danse finishes his quick shower and pulls on a faded set of army fatigues, sans jacket. Vera’s sprawled out on a bed that has to have half of the city’s supply of blankets tossed on it in a nest. It makes the rock hard mattress more comfortable, however, so he supposes he can’t bitch too much. 

As had happened in the past, once he’s settled down on his back she shifts and throws herself over his chest. She sighed and patted his chest. “Mmm. Warm.” Danse hesitantly touched her hair, threading his fingers into the thin strands. She sighs with contentment as he scratches light circles on her scalp. “G’night, Danse.”

“Good Night.” It was comforting to hold her like that as he stared up at the roof of her home. Something to focus on other than his usual inability to sleep. At least relaxing would do his body good even if his mind kept him up with replaying past failures and snidely reminding him that this too would fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after seven chapters and 30K words we have smoochies alert we have smoochies


	8. Fear and Loathing in the Glowing Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When someone dies it leaves a hole in your life. It hurts. But it doesn’t start feeling better until you make more connections. You see ghosts of the people that’ve left you in those you let back in. It makes it not hurt so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank anyone who's taken the time to read this rambling story, and thank you guys who've commented or left kudos. Getting the reinforcement that someone besides myself is enjoying this thing is giving me motivation to keep writing.
> 
> I know that in these chapters coming up there's going to be some uncomfortable topics, so if you feel like I should warning tag anything don't hesitate to reach out.

He wakes to the sound of Diamond city radio playing softly in the background a second voice singing along with it; the sound of water running and the scent of eggs cooking. One high point of having your shower in your makeshift kitchen was that you could cook while bathing, apparently.

Another sound, the door opening. Valentine letting himself in? That’s confirmed a moment later when he makes an annoyed noise. “C’mon, kid, put up a shower curtain. Are you- Y’don’t cook while you’re taking a shower!”

“Apparently I can, because I am.” Vera replies. There’s quick steps across the floor as Valentine goes to take over cooking duty. “You wanna make me some coffee because you love me?”

“I’ll make you some coffee because it makes you easier to deal with.” Valentine putters around the kitchen, things clank and move about. “You get Danse?”

“He’s upstairs still asleep.” The water shuts off and bare feet wetly slap against the floor. “Wanna toss the cram on too?”

Valentine snorted, but a moment later there was the slap and sizzle of processed meat cooking. “I swear, you pulled me outta that vault so someone would cook for you.”

Danse sat up and held his head in his hands for a moment, unsure how to describe how he felt. This odd overheard domestic morning made him feel somewhat melancholy, perhaps? Longing? He irritably shoved the feelings down and stomped down the stairs.

“Good, you’re up. Coffee’ll be ready when the kettle goes off.” Nick stood before the grill, flipping eggs about. It was such an odd picture, a trench coat clad synth making breakfast. Nick picked a plate from a small side table and scooped out eggs and cram for Danse. When he turned to offer him the plate, however, his eyes narrowed at him. “Jesus, Vera, did you maul that boy?” He called over to Vera, who was lacing up her boots.

“What.” Danse asked, glowering at Nick. He spotted a mirror haphazardly against the wall and turned to look at it. There were several bruises of varying purpleness on his neck. “Vera.”

With no shame whatsoever the woman stole the plate meant for Danse and beamed at him. “I do this.” She said proudly with a thick fake accent before she started to shovel food into her face. The kettle went off and she practically danced over to it, pouring herself and Danse a cup before returning to eating.

Danse glowered at her as well as he ate from the second plate Nick handed him. Even hot food and coffee did no favors for his foul mood. It might have been the exhaustion that settled thick in his mind and his bones, or how happy and light everyone else seemed.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a hand waving in front of his plate and realized that Vera and Valentine’s banter had died down. The room was silent, and when he looked up to her Vera frowned and tapped the side of her head then pointed at him and made first an O then a K with her fingers.

Somehow, that makes him feel guilty. Danse lowered his eyes and regarded his coffee cup like it had all answers. God knew he didn’t. “Fine. Didn’t sleep well.” He said briskly, turning all his attention to his food.

“I feel you. You need us to be quiet?” Her soft speech and thoughtful offer makes him even more guilty. He shook his head in a negative and she smiled up at him, kissing two of her fingers and gently tapping them against one of the bruises on his neck. Danse could do no more than blush and stare at his food.

“You’re an awful kid. Where did I go wrong raising you?” Nick teases her, leaning back against the wall while they finish up breakfast.

Vera kicked at his leg with her foot, shoveling the last bit of cram into her mouth before putting the plate down. “Please, I was an asshole long before I pulled your well-intentioned ass out of that vault.”

Even the sight of Vera crawling up into armor doesn’t improve Danse’ mood. He resigns himself to the thought that it’s going to be one of those days that just never get any better. To make matter worse, it was going to be a long one. They make their way out of the city and southwest through the ruins. It takes two hours of brisk walking and avoiding hotspots to get to Sommerville place, their fallback position. It’s a small settlement with a modest minutemen presence, just enough to fight away raiders.

“What is that?” Vera asks as she stares at the horizon. The green aurora of the Glowing Sea sits high in the sky and she seems utterly enchanted by it.

“That’s ground zero, doll.” Nick replies as he checks his pack for supplies. He’s loaded up with Radaway and RadX as well as chems. There would be no stopping in the glowing sea and if they needed any extra help getting back chems would provide that. “Try not to look so in love with the radioactive aura.”

The glowing sea is... Unlike anywhere that Danse has ever been before. Everywhere that he looks is a sickly, disgusting green and there’s an unnatural fog hovering everywhere. Every time he catches Nick standing there without any sort of protection his mind has to do a double take, in the fog Nick looks as human as anyone he’s ever known.

The monsters are leagues beyond what the rest of the commonwealth has thrown at them. Even radscorpions nearly overwhelm them, put down by their laser rifles. Ghouls that’ve laid long dormant rush at them, hungry for a meal.

Then there’s the deathclaws, and the less said about them the better. There’d been one particularly awful fight where the deathclaw had pitched Nick back into a pool of brackish radioactive water, only to have ghouls awaken. They’d been torn between trying to pull Nick down with them and stumbling over at Vera and Danse.

“Out of all the places I’ve been since I stopped being frozen, this is the one I hate the most.” Vera mumbled as she helped Nick up. The detective indignantly swiped at the front of his trench coat, trying to get some of the muck off of himself. They find a group of radiation worshiping cultists and manage to get intel from them.

His headache has only gotten worse as the day went on, the light and the haze and the way everything echoes through the emptiness off the sea and into his helmet where it further rattles around there. They’re all getting irritable and snapping at one another over little things.

Danse is nearly pushed over the edge when they find Virgil’s cave after a fight with yet another gigantic radioactive deathclaw, because the scientist within has turned himself into a damnned super mutant. It opens it’s mouth and speaks still with a man’s words, and all Danse can see in his mind and hear is Cutler’s mutated face and slurred speech as his only friend died at his gun, and-

“Danse.” It isn’t Vera who’s at his side, no, she’s too busy getting what she wants out of the mutant. It’s Nick who’s noticed his distress, gently grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the mouth of the cave. “Just breathe, okay?”

“That thing-” He snarled as viciously as he ever has, “should be exterminated, not bargained with.”

All he can hear is the rushing of his own blood pumping through his head and echoing around his helmet. The Synth in front of him keeps speaking softly but he doesn’t recognize him as Nick Valentine, Diamond City’s detective with the heart of gold. It’s just another Synth off the assembly line. He reaches back for Righteous Authority, but the gun isn’t there, why isn’t his gun there?

“Hey now. Breathe, okay?” The Synth is talking, it’s hands up and open palms facing him. “Just breathe. Count down from thirty with me, okay?” The Synth is oddly soothing as he counts backwards, and after a few beats Danse joins him. It takes until about fifteen before Valentine’s face comes back into focus.

“Jesus.” Danse mutters under his breath, disgusted with himself. One super mutant and he goes to pieces like that? He’d been ready to shoot Valentine there for a moment because he couldn’t control his emotions. “Sorry Valentine.”

“S’fine. We all have bad days.” Nick lowers his hands and looks back towards the room where Vera still talks with the super mutant. “Let’s wait out here, let her finish up.”

Nick leans back against the cave wall and lights a cigarette, and Danse checks his suit’s Geiger counter. Fuck it. He unsealed his helmet and held a hand out for the pack. Nick passed it over and offered him a light.

Nicotine had always been Cutler’s vice, Danse’ had always been alcohol. They’d shared both on cold nights in Rivet City, shivering together to keep warm. Those memories were colored fondly, and the younger Danse had found the taste wasn’t so bad, but the withdrawals were. Valentine’s cigarettes, however, are awful. “Do you taste?” He mumbled with a scowl on his face. “Because if you do I feel obligated to get you something decent.”

“I leave the decent ones at home. Figured the radiation would make anything taste awful.” Valentine smirked up at him before leaning over to rustle in his pack. He pulled out a can of purified water and handed it over. “But, yeah, institute programmed me to taste and smell, the whole nine yards. Never understood why they felt the need to program in pain, too.”

“That’s disturbing.” He hadn’t realized how complex even the older generation were. It further added to his hatred of the institute: Why would you create a robot that could feel pain? Danse takes another cigarette when Valentine offers it. He hazards a glance back at the room with the super mutant and shakes his head. “I don’t... Do mutants.”

“S’Understandable.” Valentine asks for no more than that, but he also moves between Danse and the room. It’s like the little Synth thinks he can keep him safe or something. Still.. It’s thoughtful. “When she gets done I say you two take a break and refuel before we head back for Sommerville. I can keep goin’ but you guys need to at least eat.”

“Whoo, boys!” Vera bound up from the lower cavern, acting like she’s not at all winded or tired from the day’s excursion. “Who’s wants to go kill a courser?” She sings as she struts up to them. “ ‘Cause we need what’s in it’s brain.”

“Where are we gonna find a courser, kid?” Nick offered her a can of water and some jerky, offering the meat to Danse as well. Danse accepts it and that makes Vera take off her helmet and have the snack. She didn’t look too bad, but Nick was already digging for and offering Rad-X. 

“Virgil suggested the CIT ruins. Can track their frequency. “ She ripped strips of jerky apart while she spoke, eyes focused on the exit of the cave. “They’ve got a chip in their head that lets the institute teleport them in and out. That’s our ticket in. Virgil’ll be working on plans to build the teleport signal hijacker while we’re off being legends.”

Vera’s eager to set off, but Nick makes them rest a bit more before allowing them out. They cut back across the glowing sea at a fast clip, ignoring what fights they can. Vera’s driving their pace and she wants to move, now.

“How do you have so much energy?” Even Danse is winded by her pace. He’s feeling foggy and irritable again as well, which makes everything worse.

“Honestly? I don’t.” She gasps out between wheezing breaths. “It’s just that if I stop, I figure I got an eighty percent chance of feeling sorry for myself and not getting back up. If I keep moving I can keep pretending that I’m fine.” She shoots him a pair of finger guns as they move. “It’s not a healthy coping mechanism at all but it’s gotten me this far!”

It was somewhat comforting to know that she too struggled.

“Y’know I’m makin’ us stop at Sommerville, right?” Nick huffs, and it’s strange that a synth sounds out of breath. “You kids need to get a night’s sleep before we go courser hunting. Let the Radaway do it’s job.”

“We can bypass that, I’m fine.” Vera said, keeping her pace.

Nick turned his head and stared hard at Danse while they followed her. They continued on for a bit more, Valentine staring at him the entire time, before Danse realized that Vera had altered the path. She really was planning on skipping the fallback point entirely. “You might not need to sleep but I do.”

“Thought you brotherhood types were strong.”

Danse had a feeling it was meant to needle him and mission-fucking-accomplished right there. “And I thought you had a sense of self preservation. The chances of succeeding in killing a courser after hiking to and from the Glowing Sea are negligible.”

“I’m not asking you to come along. You’re free to fall back, Paladin.” Danse jogs forward until he’s caught up to her and grabs her arm. “Let go of me.”

“Nick needs to do maintenance and we need to, at the very least, rest. Tomorrow we can go hunt a Courser and make it regret being created. Tonight we need to prepare.” It’s taking every bit of discipline to keep his temper in check because he knows that losing it would cause an explosion. Just focus on the facts, just clear his mind out. “If we don’t find one tomorrow we’ll go back out the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. The only way that we will not find a Courser is if we die due to being unprepared.”

Vera yanks her arm free and stands still, arms at her sides and hands clenched. “Goddamnit.” She whispers, voice savage. But she turns abruptly and corrects her course towards Sommerville. She mutters to herself, Danse can catch only a few words. ‘Do better’ were two of them, and he can tell those angry mutterings are all aimed at herself.

As soon as their geiger counters ring clear Vera tears off her helmet. “Smell that sweet commonwealth air.” Her voice was a flat, fake amused tone. “Never smelled nothin’ sweeter.”

Danse pulled off his own helmet as well. He paused for a moment while Valentine and Vera continued ahead and just breathed in fresher air for a moment. He has to jog to catch up with them. They all continue in silence for a while before Danse breaks it. 

“In the Capital Wasteland I had the misfortune of being sent on a mission to deal with Enclave solders.” Nick looks up at him as he speaks, but Vera continues on without looking. “During the skirmish myself and my group found ourselves in a place that the locals dubbed ‘Deathclaw Sanctuary’. We had to fight our way through heavily armored solders and no less than seven deathclaws. It was the very worst place I have ever been. However, with regards to today, I would sooner go back to the Sanctuary, take a deathclaw as my bride-” Danse speaks a bit more forcefully now and Nick starts to grin. “And live with it in happy matrimony than to ever go back into the Glowing Sea again.”

Vera stopped in her tracks and her shoulders start to shake. “...We could call the babies Danse-claws.” Her voice sounds strained and then she’s laughing like her stupid joke and his straight faced delivery are the funniest things she’s ever heard. Danse can’t help himself, he starts to chuckle as well. It’s ridiculous and makes no sense, but it feels good.

“Jesus Christ, I hate everything about this fucking wasteland.” Vera looks up with a wide grin on her face, forcing the words out between chuckles. “How the fuck am I still alive? Worst thing I ever fought before this shit was Papa or the Chinese. Now I got rads, and, and, deathclaws, and fuckin’ ferals. Jesus Wept, I never had to worry about bein’ eaten before.”

She’d said earlier that she hadn’t wanted to stop because she wasn’t sure if she’d get back up. It hadn’t been physical exhaustion that she’d been talking about, it was mental.

“What the actual fuck, I walked by the goddamn ground zero for a fuckin’ nuke payload today. What kind of a fuckin’ world am I living in that that is something I can do then be like, oh, better go walk back to an allied settlement and have a nap before I go murdering fuckin’ synthetically made people for the metal bits in their head because apparently that’s what the fucking future is like.” She tries to take in a deep breath but her mouth gapes open in a gasp instead. Confusion covers her face for a moment as she tries to get her breath back, and the confusion turns to panic as all she can manage is short, wheezing breaths.

“Get her outta that suit.” Nick grabbed at the gauntlets of her power armor, bobbing his head a bit in an effort to get her attention. “Doll, look at me, okay? I need you to try and pace your breath. I know it’s hard, just hold it in a little.”

While Nick talks to her in a soft and soothing tone, Danse removed the fusion core from her armor. It beeps once or twice and he pulls the wheel roughly to the right. The pneumatic seals release and Vera tumbles backwards from it freely, Danse catching her before she can fall too far. Her hands fly to her face, cupping over her mouth.

It takes time, Nick loosely holding her wrists and gently talking to her, before the gasps fade back into regular breathing. “There you go. S’all right. There you go.” Nick dipped his head down a bit so he could look at her, apparently her eyes were focused on the ground. “There you are, wearin’ your own eyes again. C’mon, we’ll get to Sommerville and I’ll fix ya somethin’ to eat and tomorrow we’ll go bag that courser.”

There was no response, just silence as she crawled back up into the armor. Danse wenched it shut for her and re-inserted the fusion core. After standing still for another moment she cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate if you both ignored that incident.” She said stiffly.

The settlers at Sommerville are standofish and there’s a breif scuffle when they spot Nick. The three Minutemen guards try to make the peace but it isn’t until an ancient woman comes out and yells at everyone involved that it settles down. “My fool son ain’t meanin’ no harm, Nick. You’re welcome here any time after what you did for Jeffey.”

“Thank ya, Gris. All we needs is is a place to set up camp and we’ll be out of your hair by morning.” Nick had tipped his hat to her deferentially and the old woman laughed, patting his arm.

“Our water purifier works thanks to those minutemen boys, so feel free to stock up while you’re here. I’ll send the boy out with some dinner. You still don’t eat?” When Nick shook his head the old woman made a noise of disgust. “You’re gonna whither away, then who’ll find stupid boys who run off?”

While Nick had dealt with the settlers Danse had gotten Vera to follow him towards the rickety barracks where the Minutemen slept. They were getting ready to expand the building, but for now there was just a second room with the basic framework of walls open to the elements, but it had a floor raised off the ground and a roof. One of the Minutemen was hastily tacking up oil cloth on the exposed walls to give some barrier from the wind.

He exits his power armor but she just stands there, staring at the little bunkhouse with eyes years away. Danse knew that face, he’d seen it on many Brotherhood members and even himself after long battles. He walked behind her and gripped the release handle of her armor. “Vera, I’m manually pulling you out again.” He informed her, and it took a bit more muscle to manually do it as opposed to having his own armor on. Still, the valve opens and she spills out, barely managing to catch her balance before she falls on her ass.

She stays still for a moment before stiffly removing the bags tied to various points on the armor. Mechanically she unrolls the bedroll and sets up camp. Nick comes by and collects their canteens, filling them up at the settlements pump. A while after that the surly man of the settlement came out with two bowls of stew, dropping them off.

“Bad enough with ‘the mintuemen’, now Ma wants to feed every stray that wanders by...” He muttered as he started off. Vera had picked up the bowl when it was sat by her, staring off at nothing.

At his words, however, her eyes sharpened and she looked like she was coming back to the present day. “If the Minutemen are such a problem I can re-assign them. I’m certain this group would like a less hazardous assignment.” She put the bowl back down on the floor and stood, dusting dirt from the bottom of her vault suit before walking over to him and extending a hand. “We weren’t introduced earlier. Vera Braun, General of the Minutemen. Do you have an issue with my men’s performance?”

The settler looked a bit stunned. “I... No, uh, no ma’am?” He gingerly took Vera’s hand and shook it. Back at the house, the old lady Gris grins at her son’s discomfort.

“Ma’am’ll do in a pinch, but I prefer General. Please thank your mother for her hospitality.” She turned from him and picked the bowl of stew back up, dismissing the man without a word. He stood there for a minute more before shuffling back off to the house. Looked like that conversation hadn’t gone how he’d expected.

The stew isn’t bad, standard wastelander fare, but it has Vera digging in her pack after. She pulls out a dented box of Fancy Lads cakes, offering him one wrapped package. He’d always had sweet tooth.

“Anyway.” She mumbled as she bit into her cake. “Deathclaws are a big bag of bullshit.”

Danse raised the remaining half of his snack cake in the air in a mock toast. “Agreed.”

They sit in a comfortable silence while Valentine putters around, working on fixing some radio receiver on the front porch while Old Gris talks his ear off. “I miss my brothers.” Vera says suddenly as they watch Nick. “Sometimes, when Nick’s being all Nick at me, I can almost... Close my eyes and pretend it’s Genya henning at me for being irresponsible. ‘Verusha, do not put your feet upon the table, feet are not food!’ ‘Verochka, are weapons to be fired inside? No! They go outside!’”

“What was he like?” Danse gets the feeling that she needs to talk about this, to remember out loud.

It’s like opening a dam, her hands worry at a hole in knee of her vault suit while she chatters. “Gentle giant. Papa was so happy when he started getting real big, like a real soilder boy. Felt like he could sell him off to the army no problem, giving his firstborn away would look good for his contacts. But my Genya, hah. He went to boot camp and just sat down. Said he’d do the physical drills and whatever, but there was no chance he’d ever pick up a gun. Just, so gentle. Only way he didn’t get a dishonorable discharge was because he never made it past boot camp. He loved arts and songs and taking care of people. Is it wrong that I’m glad he died before the bombs dropped? I know it was quick, and I know he didn’t suffer in all of this.” Vera gestured wildly out at the wasteland.

Danse reached over and caught her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I don’t think it’s wrong at all. There’s nothing wrong about hoping that someone avoided pain and suffering.” She doesn’t pull her hand back and even lays the free one on top of his. “You remember when I told you about Cutler?”

She nods and he continues on quickly, like if he stops at any point he’ll never start again. He can see Cutler so clearly in his minds eye, that cocky smirk on his face as he left Citadel for the last time with his crew. “He was assigned to a squad in the Capital Wastes that was investigating super mutant activity. His team went missing and I lead a second team after.”

He doesn’t mention that it hadn’t been an approved team, that recently Elder Sara Lyons hadn’t seen the need. She’d gone so cold after going with the Vaultie to kickstart project purity. There was no statistical need to find the missing solders, she’d said. But there’d been the need for closure, the far off hope that his friend was alive.

“His team was dead. He... Cutler wasn’t lucky. He didn’t get a quick death. Those damned mutans injected him with their FEV. I identified him from the scraps of his Brotherhood jumpsuit and the dog tags around his neck.” He’d seen that there was nothing left of Cutler in the mutant when it tried to kill him with a vertibird propeller blade. “He was gone. It was... It was my duty to... I had to put him down.”

But there at the end, at the last second when he had the barrel of Righteous Authority pressed against it’s head, the beast that had once been Cutler muttered ‘Thank’. There’d been no room for hesitation, he’d put the beast down as he hoped anyone would do to him before collecting the dog tags. “I wish every day that he’d died with his men as the man I knew rather than at my feet as an abomination.That he’d gotten an easy, kind death.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “So, no. I don’t think it’s wrong that you’re glad someone you loved didn’t have to die badly.”

Vera pats his hand a few more times. “I’m sorry he’s gone.” 

Why did speaking have to be so hard, sometimes? The words muddled in his head, stopped up in his throat. “Ever since Cutler died, I’ve never really... Had someone like that. Someone I could trust to have my back in anything, someone who’d I’d just know was there. I feel that way with you. It’s a good feeling, but when you have someone and lose them, it...”

He doesn’t need to explain, she knows the feeling. “I see my Genya in your eyes sometimes when you’re sad, I hear him in Nick’s voice when he hens over me, I see him in Preston’s soft manner. I see Volya-” Her voice chokes up and she shakes her head, unable to continue. “When someone dies it leaves a hole in your life. It hurts. But it doesn’t start feeling better until you make more connections. You see ghosts of the people that’ve left you in those you let back in. It makes it not hurt so bad.”

“You remind me of Cutler sometimes.” He confirms, and the thought doesn’t hurt him. Danse grins down at her, raising his eyebrows. “Mostly when you’re being an ass.”

His swear makes her laugh and she hugs his arm. “Look at you, we had a sweet moment and you went and ruined it.” She seemed glad that he had, however, and the dark mood that had been creeping in slid out. 

“Tell me,” Vera leaned against his side in a way that was not at all brotherhood compliant, but also not at all unwelcome. “All about Rivet City.”


	9. Ride the train

The Minutemen wish their General a fond farewell and Gris gives Nick one last hug before they set off the next morning. Despite the few hours of sleep he’d managed to get Danse feels better than the previous day. It seems that Vera does as well, she’s back to smiling and joking with her ‘boys’ before they leave. The three Minutemen stand tall and salute as she walks off.

“The CIT ruins are north of Diamond City.” Valentine said as they hiked in that direction. “We can drop by the city and head north if either of ya need.”

Danse was fine to continue, but Vera wanted to drop her suit of armor off. “I do better when I can sneak and get close. I know, I know, the T60 is a fantastic suit of armor. Not my style.”

“Yes, I can see where avoiding being damaged in combat isn’t your style.”

Nick heads off to the agency to grab his good smokes since someone had helped him get through the pack he’d had, and Vera went to her house to drop off her armor. That left Danse alone to wait in the market, a silent monolith that those out shopping swerved around and ignored.

“Hey there, big guy. You got time for a few questions?”

Danse closed his eyes, begged any almighty power for some patience, and looked down at Piper. What was it that had been the go-to phrase for reporters back in the old world? “No comment.”

The reporter rolled her eyes at him. “C’mon, don’t be like that. You like Blue, I like Blue, we’re practically friends already. And friends help friends, right?” Piper gave what he assumed was an attempt at a winning smile. It didn’t win him over. “C’mon, reassure the people of the Commonwealth that you guys aren’t here to invade. Reassure them. Help me sell some papers.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“C’mon. I’ve got a little sister who wants to hear all about the big man in the power armor. You’re not gonna disappoint a little girl, right?” There’d been a small girl selling papers by the entry to the town when they walked in, but she’d scrambled off her box and was peering at him and Piper from around the corner. When she caught Danse looking at her she gave him a small, serious smile and a wave.

Ouch. Right in the heart. Ignoring Piper he walked over to the girl and knelt down. She was just another little girl much like all the rest he saw in the commonwealth, small and thin with serious eyes that had seen more than a child should have to. “I don’t answer reporters.” He told her sternly. “But I have nothing against their sisters.”

“Well, I’m going to be a reporter too.” The girl replied crossly, hands falling to her hips. Danse looks back to Piper and catches an apprehensive look cross her face for just a moment. Perhaps she doesn’t want her sister to follow in her footsteps? “What’s it like to fly on your ship?”

“Exhilarating. The world looks different from up above. The Prydwen herself is a smooth ride, though riding in a Vertibird is more... Adventurous.” Depending on the pilot it would be downright dangerous.

More questions followed the first, emboldened by her success Nat kept going. He told her that the Brotherhood had came to hunt the Institute, that the rumors about Project Purity in the Capital Wastes was true, that he was currently assisting the General of the Minutemen. As he spoke to the girl several other children approached and Danse found himself the center of attention. Small hands left prints over his armor and young eyes were lit with joy.

They introduced themselves as Erin, Pete, Phil, and Sheng. Nat doesn’t seem to mind the first three, but she glowers at Sheng. “He tried to kiss me at school.” She told Danse with a scrunched up face and a glare at the boy.

“She’ll learn to like me.” Sheng said with a shrug. “I’ve got a good business already. We’re gonna get married someday.”

Nat gagged loudly and Danse affixed the boy with a strong glare. Sheng stood up to it for a few moments before starting to look nervous. “Only the weak attempt to force unwanted ‘affections’ on others.” He said flatly. “It’s a mark of poor character and moral fiber.”

“Exactly.” Of course Vera was there watching. She likely had been for some time, because the woman enjoyed nothing more than the discomfort of others. The General walked closer and stood by his side. “So you have to ask. Like this: Paladin Danse, may I kiss you?”

Damn the woman. “You may.” He said begrudgingly, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek lightly. The assembled children and Piper giggled. “There. A perfect example. Are you prepared to leave?” He turned his attention to Vera as he rose back to his feet.

“Preparations complete. Let’s go bag ourselves a Courser.” She’d swapped from her usual vault suit and armor combo into her minutemen gear, a large Gauss rifle strapped to her back. That was rare, she generally fought with closer range weapons. Perhaps she was thinking things through and would allow him to take point while she shot from a distance?

No, that wasn’t the case, as was shown when they ran into their first group of raiders. Either she had no idea that the Gauss rifle was to be used as a sniper rifle, or she just wanted to see raider’s heads explode from close range. Whatever the case, the rifle was deadly up close as it was at range. She stroked it’s stock lovingly after the battle was finished. “This is the very best gun I’ve ever owned. Ronnie just got it in, special order.”

She offered it over for Danse to look at like a proud parent offering their child for adoration. Danse gingerly took the gun from her hands and looked it over. It was finely made and well upgraded. ‘The Last Minute’ was inscribed on the stock, and it was a fitting name for the General’s gun. “It’s a fine weapon.” Danse offered it back to her and she took it back eagerly, again caressing it with gentle fingertips before stringing it over her back.

Nick had watched the entire interaction with a patient look on his face. “Kids and their toys.” He teased, ruffling Vera’s hair when she got close enough. “The way that gun’s barreled and silenced, y’know you’re supposed to be using from a vantage point and from distance, right?”

“Why you gotta piss on my dreams, Valentine?” 

The CIT ruins were north of Diamond City, across the river. Vera started to twist the dial around on her Pip-boy to tune into a courser signal. She gets one pretty quick but the signal, while sounding a little broken and off tone, was very strong. “Huh. Maybe I’m picking up on a chip from you, Nick?” She shrugged and fiddled around with the dial more. A similar much weaker signal was found.

\--

They heard the courser before they saw it, a flat voice in the room above. It spoke calmly and methodically to the gunners at its mercy and after a few minutes a shot rang out. The courser started in on the second gunner, who sounded pretty terrified.

Vera hummed a bit as she lead the way up the stairs, always the first to walk headlong into danger. She shoved the double doors open wide at the same time and strode through them like an idiot. “My, my, my. I do have to say that I am quite a fan of your work, good sir. Dead gunners everywhere.”

The Courser was tall and thin with an odd face: with its close set eyes and beakish nose it reminded Danse of pictures he’d seen of pre-war birds of prey. That likness was heightened when the Courser tipped its head to one side as it stared unblingly at Vera. “You’ve been following me. Are you here for the Synth?”

“Whaat? No! I’m just here to pick up my pizza! Large pepperoni, under ‘Fuck You’.” Again with the finger guns. Danse sighed loudly and looked to Nick, who was casually loading his pistol.

The Courser tipped its head to the other side. “If you’re not here for the Synth you’re here for me.” The remaining gunner groaned in pain and the Courser, without looking, shot him in the chest. The viciousness just made Vera grin wider. “What. Do you want.” Its gaze shifted slightly and it caught sight of Nick before Vera could reply. “The prototype. Hm. After I dispatch you I’ll bring it in as well.”

It was a true talent to say the worst thing at the worst possible time.

“Oh. Haha, man. I wish I could let you live so that you could tell your bosses Nick Valentine is off limits.” Vera shrugged, the wide grin still plastered on her face. “Guess I’ll have to tell them myself after I dig that chip out of your head.”

The Courser uses a stealth boy, because of course it does. Danse takes a step back towards Nick and watches the air closely. He has a feeling- and he’s correct as he sees the slight waver in the air, the Courser has bypassed Vera and is heading towards Nick. Danse fires at the shimmer, catching the synth somewhere from the blood splurt in the air, but all it really did was make the Courser change direction. 

Danse knows that he’s a solidly built man weighing near two hundred pounds, and with his armor it put him over four hundred pounds in total. The Courser somehow managed to grab the arm holding onto his gun and twist it behind his back before kicking him off balance without making so much of a sound of exertion. Danse stumbled forward and Nick darted out of his way, giving him covering fire before the Courser could come in with a shot to his fusion core.

That left Valentine open to the Courser, who darted in close. Yellow eyes darted around before Nick lashed out; the Courser made a surprised grunt as Nick caught it by the neck and slammed it into the ground violently. He pulled back quickly and shot twice into the shimmering area.

There’s a screech and a squeal and three things happen at the same time: the Courser abruptly appears, Nick shudders and goes limp, and Danse’ armor HUD goes blank. He can see out the eyesockets of his helmet, but there’s no status of the state of his armor able to be read and he can’t move.

Vera’d tossed down an EMP grenade to knock the Courser out of stealth, but they’d been too close and caught it as well. The Courser gets up and is able to see that two of it’s opponents are temporarily down and, of course, turns to the third. It doesn’t pull a gun, just darts in so goddamn fast-!

The Courser lashes out at her and if it had been strong enough to knock Danse over easily it was certainly strong enough to crush bones. But she ducks and bobs back up, hands balled into fists around bladed knuckles. She darts in herself and lands a glancing blow before the Courser pulls away. Beside him, Nick shudders and comes back into the fight like he never missed a beat, firing a pair of shots into the Courser’s back.

His HUD pops up shortly after and he readies his own gun, following Nick’s bullets with laser shots. The Courser spins to face them and for a moment it’s face looks confused. It’s almost like it’s surprised that they’re doing any damage to it. The surprise only grows when Vera, the enormous idiot that she is, jumps on it’s back and grasps it’s face with one hand. The other hand comes up quick and clean with an exposed switchblade and it seems like a Courser can die of a slit throat just like anyone else.

In a last move of likely spite, the courser throws itself backwards as it paws at the wound. An oddly human response, like it thinks that maybe it can staunch the bleeding. Vera yelps as she’s trapped between the flailing Courser and the ground as it bleeds out. Danse holsters his rifle and crosses the room, kicking the Courser off of her and looking down.

“Nailed it.” She grinned and gave him two thumbs up. Danse sighed as Nick wandered off towards the room that the Synth was locked up in.

“Have you ever considered that an attack that disables two of your allies might not be a sound tactical decision?” Danse asked sarcastically, offering her a hand up. “Friendly fire seldom is.”

“Oof. Yeah, judged that impact radius shitty, that was my bad.” She grasped his arm and pulled herself up. “Still, any one you walk away from.”

The door behind them slides open and Danse turns to see the Synth standing in the doorway, hands clasped below it’s chin. It stares at the dead Courser in amazement. “You... You killed him.” It looked utterly gobsmacked, gaze turning to Vera.

“We are surprisingly good at killing things.” She tipped her head and smiled warmly at the Synth, who quickly mirrored her face. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yes’m. I’m... Jenny. Call me Jenny.” It looks so desperate, and this is Danse’ first up close look at a Gen3. It’s disgustingly lifelike, eyes able to show an appropriate amount of fear as he looms above it.

Vera squats by the corpse of the courser and taps her knife on it’s head. “Okay, Jenny. Now, if I was looking for a Courser chip about where in him would I find it?”

“Um....? I, the standard chipset is between the medulla oblongatta and the cerebellum? So, uh, there?” The synth shifts back and forth on it’s feet and edges away from Danse, though it doesn’t get close to Vera either.

The General flips the Courser over and sinks her knife into the base of it’s skull. ‘Jenny’ gags and turns away. After an inch or so the knife hits metal and Vera undergoes the unpleasant task of removing the Synth component. “Wish I would’ve paid more attention back in biology. Sure the placement does something specific, otherwise wouldn’t you just shove it in the middle and build around it?” The synth component came out with a wet squelch and a pop into Vera’s waiting hand and she held it up in triumph.

“What are we going to do about it?” Danse nodded back towards ‘Jenny’ who cringed away from him again. 

Nick frowns at him as he fiddles with a loose bolt on his wrist. “Why do anything? She ain’t doin’ no harm.”

“It doesn’t mean to do anything, but it was created to be a weapon.” Danse gestured at the Synth, who looked at the floor and mumbled something that sounded like ‘They made me to clean the floors’. “Synths are a danger to... ...”

Valentine was staring at him with that sassy look that clearly says ‘you hear what you’re saying?’. Danse sighed and resisted the urge to rub his face with both hands. This is what he got, becoming friendly with a synth to the point that he treated it like a person. Sometimes you forgot you were ranting about the evils of their kind to their face.

“Nick. You slammed that thing into the ground like it was nothing. It knocked me prone without trying and I know my weight. Both of you did that effortlessly. Synths are made to be superior to humans in combat situations and they’re made to be infiltrators. This entire adventure could have been a trap.” It’s a thought that’s been in the back of his mind. “Isn’t it strange how things are working? Following a trail of breadcrumbs to the Institute?”

Valentine sighs and Danse can tell that the Synth has been thinking similar thoughts. “You’re thinkin’ they let this happen?” His eyes move to the left and Danse looks over his shoulder; Jenny is slowly approaching Vera. Danse reaches for his weapon but Nick’s skeletal hand touches the back of his hand. “Just... Wait. Trust me.”

It rankles, but Danse does. Jenny slowly approaches Vera as she cleans brain matter and blood from the component. “You’re... Her, aren’t you? The sole survivor.” Vera turns to look at it, recoiling slightly when the synth reaches out to touch her face. The synth’s fingertips almost touch the corner of her left eye and she just stares at the General. “You are her. You’re not what any of us expected.” Jenny sounds amazed and almost... awed.

Vera tips her head to one side and gives a mirthless smile. “Good.” She tucks the component into her pack and loosely grabs Jenny’s wrist. “What were you expecting?”

“Someone soft.” Jenny said after a moment of deliberation. It pulls away then, pausing for a moment when it pulls it’s hand free from Vera’s grasp. “I should... I need to go. Get ready for the surface. If I can’t make it out of here I can’t ever make it out there, right?”

“Right.” Vera doesn’t pay it much attention after that, just heads back over to Nick and Danse. It’s telling that she doesn’t loot either body though, leaving the Synth weapons and armor if it wanted them. “So. We killed a courser and we’ve got it’s brain thing. Now, how do we crack it?”

Nick looks to the side and pulls his mouth up into a grimace. “I think I know a way, but he ain’t gonna like it.”

 

Valentine was right. He didn’t like it. Danse had spent quite a long time arguing that the Railroad, a shady organization that smuggled Synths into the general population, wasn’t who they should go to. Danse had yet to see a technological problem that Proctor Ingram couldn’t fix, and there was that kook doctor in Goodneighbor that messed with brains.

“This is the quickest option. Honestly, it’s probably for the best if you don’t come along.” The dismissal stings, and Danse tries to tell himself that it isn’t at how easily she can push him aside. “Bringing a Paladin with me to the Railroad is going to look like more of an invasion than an attempt to share information. And how would you explain this to Maxson?”

Nick had leaned against the side of the building, lighting a cigarette and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Well. He likes history. If he drops that power armor off I could be your chaperon on a date down the freedom trail.” There’s a challenge in those yellow eyes. “Broaden his horizons a bit.”

“There is no way he’s going to go for that.” Vera snorted, and that had been enough for Danse to insist that they head back to Diamond city and leave his armor beside hers and slap on some borrowed body armor over his casual clothes.

He felt like a target, he felt so fucking weak without his power armor as they crept down through Boston. It was like every one of his senses was hyper aware, every noise that ricocheted down the ruined buildings sounded like an attack. They skirt around the edges of the Commons and follow the trail, sticking low to the ground and in the shadows as much as possible. It’s amazing how much better his sneaking got when they were trying to avoid a fight with super mutants.

The trail eventually lead to the old North Church. Vera almost looks sad as she surveys it’s broken state. “Wonder if we could find an intact bible? Even if it’s Christian...”

Christianity had been a large religion pre-war, if Danse remembered correctly. Even in the current state there were holdouts of most pre-war religions. “What are you, then?” He asks as they duck into the building and from the state it’s in there’ll be no intact books inside.

“Catholic.”

Danse doesn’t understand why Nick snorts at that. “You lot had to be the worst Catholics I’ve ever met.”

“C’mon. We had money and went to church every Sunday and by God himself, we could act better than everyone else like the best of them.” Sometimes when Vera and Nick talk it’s like they’ve got their own secret code or something because Danse has no idea what’s going on. She takes pity on him and smiles over her shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We weren’t very good at behaving to the standards we should’ve. Kept God in our heart, but our earthly bodies were having too much fun partying. I think my brother got arrested six times in Boston for drunk and disorderly conduct.”

“Another nine times in Chicago.” Nick added, voice sounding far off like one caught in a memory. “You bailed him out every time.”

“Had to. He was too pretty to sit there. We’ll have to talk about that later.”

Ghouls infest the basement of the church and are quickly dispatched, Danse backing up as far as he can get from them. Without his armor he’s very happy to take the back of the line and let Vera, who still has zero fear, charge ahead with her knife. It doesn’t take long for Vera to guess the password to the puzzle once they reach a dead end and she takes a moment to mock it before walking into the room that had opened up for them.

It’s then that things go abruptly downhill.

Spotlights suddenly switch on at them, illuminating the darkness and momentarily blinding them. He reaches for his gun and can hear Vera pulling The Last Minute off her back beside him. “That’s far enough.” A woman’s voice calls out, cold and commanding. Danse squints and can see the vague outline of a woman flanked by another pair of figures, one with it’s hands up holding a small caliber pistol and the other carrying a mini gun. “You’ve gone to a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. Before we go any further answer my questions. Who the hell are you?”

“Put down your weapons first.”

“Until we’ve determined you’re not a threat we’ll point our weapons wherever we damned well please.” Danse hears Nick mutter ‘Ah, Jesus.’ under his breath because, yes, they’re going to get into a pissing contest.

The Last Minute whines as it’s primed and Danse eyes the three before them. Obviously the woman with the mini-gun is the first target, the leader and the man with the small caliber gun won’t be able to do as much damage. “I’ve got a real weird hangup. Whenever I have a gun pointed in my face I just assume that someone’s trying to kill me. That the impression you’re trying to give?”

“C’mon, I’ll vouch for us.” Nick calls over the start of the leader’s reply. “You think I’m an Institute plant now?”

“Threatening violence on people who are interested in helping your cause alienates more than it assists.” Danse adds in flatly.

The argument gets more tense, voices rising, but another female voice cuts over all of them. “Holy shit, is that- Victory Danse?”

Danse froze in place, staring at the woman holding the minigun who’d stepped forward enough that he could see her. How long had it been since anyone’d called him Victory? Hell, when he joined up with the Brotherhood he’d conveniently dropped the Y off his name because there’d been enough mocking with Cutler, he couldn’t imagined what would’ve happened in the Brotherhood with a name like that. Still, who could...?

He has a flashback as he looks up at her, a girl in a bar in Rivet City who’d walked over to him after getting done with a conversation with Harkness. She’d had a wild grin and fire in her eyes; they’d bonded over drinks and having equally terrible names. “Glory Bea. You’re a long way off from the Capital Wastes.”

“I could say the same.” Her smile’s the same and the fire’s still there, but she looks tired and worn. “Where’s that mouthy kid you hung out with? Danny?”

It was odd, hearing someone call him Danny when Danse had gotten so used to him just being Cutler. The Brotherhood had changed a lot. “Super mutants.” He said and she grimaces.

“Sorry to hear that. Bad way to go.” Glory looks over at their leader and elaborates quickly for her. “I was in Rivet city about ten years ago, had some business there. Spent a good while there. Vic and his friend Danny ran a junk shop. Kinda surprised to see him in the ‘Wealth.”

Their leader looks between Danse and Nick before looking back to Vera, whom Danse is looking anywhere but. “Your tags say Victor.” She tells him conversationally, and Danse is still not looking at her. “I can’t believe I could’ve had sex with you without knowing that it’s Victory. That’s going to-”

“Will you please stop?” Danse mumbled and thankfully Vera drops it, but he can picture the grin on her face.

A fourth person comes from the tunnels behind Glory and the two others. “Oh, hey, Wow. You didn’t tell me you were inviting the Courser killer to the party.” He tipped his chin up at Vera and smiled. “Hey there, Courser-Killer. We gonna let the Courser killing machine inside?”

The leader turns from him back to Vera. “I owe you an apology. Anyone that kills a Courser is good in my books.”

“Eh, not him though. Might wanna keep the Brotherhood Paladin outside.” The man fiddled with his sunglasses and smirked at Danse, and all the tension is back in the room.

“Danse has agreed that we’re just taking a historical tour around Boston and I’m sure he’ll be happy to catch up with his friend while we all head inside. I’ve got something here that you can’t afford to turn away. That courser we all killed?” Vera fishes around in her pack for a moment before pulling out the Synth component. “I’ve got what was in it’s brain.”

The leader makes a quick decision at the sight of it. “Glory, stay outside with the Brotherhood. You two are welcome to come inside.”

Nick shakes his head and leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette. “I’ll stay outside. Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Vera smiles at the both of them and follows the leader up the stairs. Before the drifter in sunglasses can get ahead of her she reaches up and grabs his ear, twisting it hard. “I don’t like spies.” She told him cheerfully as she dragged him along, him yelping all the while.

Glory sat down her minigun and came down the stairs, leaving just the now anxious looking kid with the pistol armed. She crosses to Danse and throws her arms around him tightly, Glory had always been physically affectionate to him like that. Cutler had always teased them about it. It’d been strange, her affection had always been warm and familiar. He hadn’t gotten that feeling again, of being home, until he joined the Brotherhood. “The Brotherhood, Vic?” She questions, like she can read his thoughts or something.

“They’re family. The Railroad?”

“Synths never asked to be made, and no one should be a slave.”

They both sound equally firm in their opinions and it’s clear to Danse at least that anything negative said about the Railroad will start a fight. A slight smile pops up on Glory’s face and she probably realizes the same will set him off. “It’s good to see you again. Did you ever find your sister?”

“That’s... Not a happy ending.” Glory shook her head. “How’d you wind up traveling with the Synth to end all Synths and that active bomb?” Nick raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t comment. 

He gave her the abridged version of the story, not knowing how much time they have to catch up. Even retelling it sounds impossible to beleive, how things had went from barely holding out at the Cambridge station to now pulling a chip out of a Courser’s head to teleport into the Institute. “Well, damn.”

Danse smirks a bit and suddenly wants nothing more than a drink in his hand and a barstool under him, Danny at his right side and the sound of Rivet City in the background. Life had been so simple back then. “My life has been unreasonably complicated as of late.”

“Sounds like it.” Glory grins slyly at him. “But it sounds like you’re having fun even if you don’t want to be. Challenging yourself. Learning new things. Like maybe not all synths are terrible and deserving of death?”

He looks over his shoulder at Valentine who still looks irritatingly calm. “There are... exceptions to every rule.” The Brotherhood was black and white and that had suited him. Nick Valentine is as gray as his suit and skin and Danse isn’t sure how he’d feel about turning a gun on him if need be. Things were much easier when they were black and white; us or them.

Boots clatter against the tunnel and Vera, shadowed by the idiot wearing sunglasses inside, comes out. “Hey, Danse, I’m gonna miss you.” She calls, obviously enjoying the confusion on his face. “But when you get back you’ll have to introduce me to your Deathclaw wife.”

Back to the Glowing Sea, then. “Outstanding.” He said flatly, making Glory laugh. Nick pulls himself away from the wall, dusting off the back of his trench coat. He tips his hat to Glory as he passes, making her smile. “I assume we’re sneaking back?”

“I’d come help if I could, Vic. Clear the path.” ‘Wouldn’t be the first time’ he thinks to himself, then shakes his head to dislodge that thought. Had Glory helped him and Cutler out on a junk run? That has to be it: even if the specifics are hazy he can remember her giving him covering fire a time or two.

“Just like old times.” He replies and it’s odd how sad she looks at that. Maybe she longs for the days when things were simpler.


	10. And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, their spears into pruning hooks

Maxson folded his hands together on the table and stared over it at his Paladin. Danse stood there with one eye swollen shut and looking so utterly done with everything in the world. His armor had already been dropped off in it’s bay and Ingram had raked him over the coals for it’s state. “Rough date?”

“With the deepest respect, sir.” Danse sighed, reaching up to rub at his face. “Fuck off, sir.”

The young elder snickered, glad that Danse had had the foresight to shut the door behind him. No one would ever hear him speak like that if there were prying ears. Behind closed doors? Danse wasn’t afraid to treat him like a human, a friend. Sometimes that involved calling him out. “You want a drink?”

“As I am concussed, no I do not.” He flopped bonelessly into a chair. “There are deathclaws that can turn invisible in the glowing sea. Did you know that? I was not aware of that until suddenly I’m being hauled up and pitched into an outcropping of rocks. I had a suit breech and we weren’t at our destination yet, so I had to start popping Rad-X like it was candy because of course the General isn’t going to turn back for a little thing like possible radiation poisoning of a traveling companion.”

Nick had been all for it, though, so he had that going for him. Vera’d just advised them to head back, but she was pushing forward to Virgil’s cave. Danse had just followed after despite Valentine’s protests, he wasn’t going to turn back and leave her to her own stupidity in the glowing sea. The lingering radsickness was part of his foul mood, her flippant attitude at his safety another part. He aches all over, especially his back and shoulder from the collision. His head is pounding and there’s a blind spot on the eye that’s swollen. 

Then, of course, there was the entire issue with the transporter. He goes into as much detail as he can with that. The gist of it was, however, that the General had a set of plans to build a device that could hack into a courser signal and transport someone into the institute. She’d refused to share these plans with the Brotherhood. “Oh, but she says that we are more than welcome to come assist with the construction.”

Maxson looks far less amused than he had at the start of the conversation and Danse is pleased to see that. He knows he shouldn’t be, but if he’s frustrated then by God, everyone around needs to be. “This is your fault, you know.”

“This is in no way my fault.” Danse rubbed his left temple before pressing the heel of his palm into the eye, willing the blind spot to go away. The headache stabs a line across his skull and beats in sync with his heartbeat. “I signed up to fight for the Brotherhood. I didn’t sign up to wrangle civilians.”

There’s a rustling across the table, then Maxson’s rolling a bottle his way: his stash of painkillers for the headaches that could cripple a man. Danse silently but thankfully took a few and swallowed them dry before rolling the bottle back. “I honestly think she assumes that if we get a copy of the plans we’ll beat her in there and she’s not willing to risk losing a chance of finding information.” Or risking a chance to be the first to die in the Institute.

“Well. Proctor Ingram has been asking for a field assignment, and she gets along with the General so well. The Prydwen can manage for a few days.” Even a few days of looking at a plan would give Ingram a good chance to memorize it. “In the meantime, you look like shit. Get some rest.”

“Thanks for your concern. I’m touched.” Danse stands, wavering a bit on his feet as he does. He needs to get something to eat, to work on his armor, to see Cade- Well, he can probably manage himself with some Rad Away and stims. Eventually there’ll be a few hours spent in bed restlessly tossing and turning before getting up to find something to do.

The first order of business is food. The Mess hall is filled more than he would like and after picking up his food he wavers a bit, plays with the idea of stumbling up to his quarters and eating it there.

“Sir? Paladin Danse?” It’s one of the many squires that patrol the ship; this particular one is around ten years old and if he remembers correctly is named Marcus. His eyes are bright and filled with excitement as he gestures to a table populated by a few other squires. “You can sit with us, we have space.”

He’s always had a weak spot for kids. He could wax on and on about how the represented hope for the future and had to be trained, but in reality he remembered a lonely childhood and didn’t want another kid to have to deal with that. It’d been what had lead him to talking to a lonely boy at the Citadel, isolated by the mantle of potential future greatness thrown over his shoulders. “Thank you, Squire.”

The assembled children grin to one another and scoot around until there’s space enough for him. Danse sits heavily and looks down at the food on his tray, picking up his spoon after a moment to shove it around. One of the squires, Isobel he thinks, giggles and leans over. “I don’t like stewed carrots either.” She confides.

“It is indeed the least palpable way to prepare them.” The kids giggled again as he scooped some of them up, despite his words. From the looks on their faces he could guess what they wanted. “If you get me caught up with things that have happened on the ship, I’ll tell you about the Commonwealth.”

Squires were always an excellent source of gossip and of the general workings of the ship. They were everywhere and small enough that they were easily overlooked. They get him caught up on the little gossip (Apparently Scribe Neirah’s molerats had gotten out and caused a fuss) to organizational changes. There’d been a few promotions to Knight and rumors of future promotions.

The kids are interested in everything he can tell them about the Commonwealth, but once he mentions the farms it’s all over. “So stuff grows here?” Isobel asks with excitement. The meager farms here are a strange sight compared to the barren nature of the Wastes.

“I’m unsure if the radiation in the soil is lower here, or if the plants have adapted better, but they do grow.” Isobel has the bright look in her eyes of a scribe and, who knows, maybe one day she’ll go on to find out exactly why the Commonwealth can grow crops. 

“We’d have more of those crops on board if your girlfriend wasn’t so touchy about her settlements.” Teagan calls from a nearby table.

Danse knows he can’t deny the ‘girlfriend’ comment, that’ll just add more fuel to the fire. Instead he sips his nuka-cola and gives Teagan an even stare. “If you put more effort into sweet talking her I assume that your results would differ.” He says flatly. “Have you considered offering her a trade of dangerous situations to run headlong into without backup? That is her favorite thing to do.”

The proctor stares at him for a minute, likely taking in his state, before laughing heartily at his expense. “Wild women make life worth living.” He advised, raising his own glass in a toast. “Granted, they make it hard to live.”

One of the squires, William, looks a little confused. “I thought you liked her? She was nice to me.” Right, William had been the squire that Vera had praised after he fetched them.

“I would like her a great deal more if her first thought when she saw a deathclaw was not ‘We should kill and then eat that’.” Danse sighed, scraping the last of his food from the tray. “I’m going to head down and do maintenance on my armor if...” Before he can finish his sentence the squires are speedily finishing their food so they can follow him down.

Ingram’s been by his armor while he debriefed and got food, the main suit breech that had irradiated him had been patched. He lead the assembled squires through unhooking the plates of his armor and doing basic maintenance, from checking the wire harnesses to cleaning and greasing the joints. Danse made a game out of having the squires guess the causes of the damage.

William has to leave first, thanking Danse before he goes off to his shift. Marcus has to leave after that, leaving Isobel alone to help him rehang the plates. “So. Have you decided on what path you’re going to pursue?” Danse asked her. She was a bit older than the other two boys and within a year or so she’d have to pick between the scribes or initiates.

“I don’t know.” She frowned as she got one leg properly seated on the frame. “I like research and organization but...” Isobel gestured at his suit with a helpless look on her face. “Power armor.”

Danse snickers a bit, patting the chestplate of his armor. “I understand. For what it’s worth, I think that no mater what you choose you’ll excel.”

Isobel draws herself up to her full height and fights back a smile. “Permission to speak freely?” She asks in her most responsible voice. Danse raises a brow and nods. Instead of speaking she throws her arms around his waist and hugs him tight. “Thank you.”

He awkwardly patted her head and ruffled her hair. “You’re welcome, Squire. Do us proud.” She beamed at him and gave a little salute before dashing off. Danse returned to his maintenance in good humor.

It’s late when he finishes for the night and he heads past the mess hall without thinking. He walks by medical and assumes that Cade will either be busy or not in. “Paladin? Do you have a minute?” Well, there went that theory. Danse debated ignoring him for one brief moment before he steps in.

Cade has that look of ‘I’m not mad I’m disappointed’ as he gives Danse his overdue checkup. He doesn’t chatter or prattle on as he hooks up the RadAway bag and hits him in the shoulder with a stim. Once he’s done and Danse is stuck there until the RadAway works into his system he leans against another gurney. “Have you given any consideration into my recommendation?”

“No.” Cade was a good man and one of the best medics that Danse had ever had the misfortune of getting patched up by, but he was wrong on this point. Removal from field duty wouldn’t help. Cade just keeps looking at him, calm as can be, so Danse elaborates. “Sitting behind and watching others go out and do what I should would make me feel worse than I currently do. Inaction would not heal me.”

“It wouldn’t be inaction, just... Treating the Prydwen as a fallback position. You could teach the initiates or the squires, do mentoring of the next generation of brothers and sisters.” Danse looks anywhere but the doctor, eyes falling on a handmade calendar on the opposite wall. Huh. It’s June. “I’ve seen too many good brothers self destruct in the field and I don’t want to see you go that direction.”

June 16th, to be precise (which Cade always is). Fascinating. “Thank you for your concern. This isn’t an issue.”

“Your mental health is just as important as your physical health.” Cade sighed and shifted, moving over to check the RadAway. “You were dropped into hostile territory with poor itntel and four members of your squad died. There’s no shame in being affected by that.”

It hadn’t been poor intel that got his men killed, it’d been his own ineptness. His own failings as a leader that caused four good men to die and had nearly cost him Rhys and Haylen. If it hadn’t been for the General’s last minute assistance and further support they would’ve died in that station before the Prydwen ever landed-

“It wasn’t your fault.” Danse supposes Cade means to be comforting by lying to him but all it does is further remind him of his failings. He turns his head to look up at the RadAway bag: still too full to shirk out of.

“I would consider it to be a personal favor if we could switch to another topic.” Danse said as flatly as he could. Cade sighed again but changed the topic, asking about the squires.

Danse escapes medical as soon as he’s able, heading up to his quarters without stopping. There’s only one further plan for the evening: drinking enough of the homebrew hooch to ensure that he doesn’t dream.

\---

Sanctuary Hills is almost impressive from above: houses that had been destroyed beyond repair had been removed and the other houses were in the process of being patched up with scrap to make them suitable for living. One empty concrete slab has been turned into a greenhouse where several settlers tend to the plants inside, there’s garish lights (lights, they have the spare power for that?) advertising a newly built bar. All around the settlement are manned guard posts and flagpoles flying the blue flag.

“They’re doing well for themselves.” Ingram mutters to Danse as their pilot is directed to a good landing spot by a familiar duster clad man. “Then again they should have the materials if they’re stripping the vault.”

Danse grunts and hops out of the ‘bird, followed a minute later by Ingram. The pilot salutes them and takes off, he has orders to return in three days to pick them back up. Maxson had been tempted to order her there until the device was finished but there was only so long they could spare her.

Garvey approached with a hand held out in greeting. “Proctor, Paladin, welcome to Sanctuary.” He shook Ingram’s hand and gave Danse a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Let me point out a few things before I bring you to the project site. The two new construction buildings at the end of the cul-de-sac are the general mess and the barracks, if you need food or a bed they’ve got it to spare. Doctor’s down towards the bridge.”

Settlers look up as they lumber by but they can’t spare too much time from their work. The crops won’t wait but gossiping can. “The only other thing that I have to mention is that the Minutmen help all the members of the commonwealth s’long as they’re friendly. We’ve got some people at the settlement who aren’t exactly brotherhood approved. Hoping you won’t make that a problem.” Garvey says more to Ingram to Danse.

“The only thing I’m here to do is work on this project. Danse can be social for me.” Ingram says as they walk towards the project site, what’s left of a carport near the bridge. It’s been boarded up hastily and tarps strapped to holes in the roof.

“Thanks. Tom’s a bit... A lot odd, but he’s pretty smart. You’ll get along with Sturges, everyone does.” And is that a hint of pink that Danse sees pop up on the Minuteman’s face? Oh, ho. If it was, Preston was going to regret all that teasing he’d done to Danse.

Inside the carport is lit by unshaded bulbs hastily strung from the ceiling and sets an odd light to everything. There’s a dark skinned man with odd headgear talking animatedly to a half gutted terminal and a pair of denim covered legs sticking out of the bottom. “Naw, man, that’s how they getcha! Nanorobots in all the food! You’re already on their lists, man.”

“Not sayin’ it’s not impossible, just a little resource heavy. Don’t you think they’d go for somethin’ a little simpler? Like, I dunno, genetic markings?” Sturges’s voice echoes up through the terminal.

“Naw, naw... Well, yeah, maybe...” Tom’s eyes dart over to them and settle on Ingram, going wide. “Well hello, what have you... Aw, now that’s brilliant. Sturges, look at this, I know you’ll love it! Mobility power armor!”

Sturges crawled out from the terminal and climbed to his feet. Danse notices that he quickly looks over Preston to Ingram, like if he doesn’t look at the man no one can see that there’s something going on. “That’s some impressive modding y’ve done, Ma’am.” 

“Thank you. Now, what are we working on?” Ingram is as eager to get to work as they are to have her, and the three lean over the plans and start to argue and pass ideas back and forth. 

Danse followed Preston out and eyed the defenses around the area. They looked sufficient for now, he’d likely do an individual patrol later. Until then, however.... “So. Sturges, huh?”

Garvey’s entire face flushes and he bites back a grin. “He’s one hell of a mechanic. Never seen anything he can’t take fix.”

“Uh-huh.” Danse just raises an eyebrow. “You turn any redder, Garvey, and I’ll think you’re turning ghoul.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He loses the fight he’d been having to hold the grin back. It’s like a ray of sunshine coming up right after dawn, bright and all consuming. “Been nice getting to be on this side of Boston though. For totally unrelated reasons, of course.”

“Uh-huh.” Danse repeats, giving Preston a look to let him know that he’s onto him. But, he lets it slide without too much teasing. Preston looks too radiant about it. “Where’s the General and Valentine?”

There was no chance Nick wasn’t in on this plan, after all. “The General, Valentine, and Mac went out earlier to pick for parts. We’ve got a few teams together doing the same, actually. Unless you’ve got a specific duty with Ingram we could always use another hand bringing in the materials for this project.”

“Technically still assigned to assist the General, so I’m sure I’ll be volunteered for retrieval.” They fall in step with one another, Preston’s long strides almost matching Danse’ armored ones. He edits his own steps a bit shallower to compensate as they walk the perimeter of the settlement. “This place is picking up.”

“Yeah, we’re doing all right out here.” Preston looks around and grins at their progress. “We’re on about four different trader routes now, and last week we repelled a pretty good sized raider attack. I’ve been talking with the General: we’re saving up excess materials and offering them to the settlers to make individual dwellings, and the barracks could be turned into an inn when we get to a certain size. Make Sanctuary a real town.”

It wasn’t a bad dream. “Need to get better defenses in that case. Any large settlement is a huge target. Might want to push out to the other side of the river to protect the purifiers, river itself isn’t deep enough to dissuade attacks. Snipers on the hills could be a problem as well, walls would need to be higher on that side.” Danse gestured as he spoke, looking over the area with a critical eye. A few guard posts in the hills for advance notice... Yeah, it could work. And if anyone was going to be able to pull it off it’d be the determined dreamers here.

“Yeah, it’ll take work, but it’ll be worth it. Building a place that we can all call home, making the world better a little bit at a time.” Preston beamed at the town and it’s possibilities. “Y’know, sometimes it doesn’t seem real. All of this. It’s only been... What, seven or eight months since the General showed up and pulled us out of the fire?”

“She hasn’t told me much about it, other than she killed a Deathclaw.” Danse left it open, if Preston wanted to talk he could.

It appeared he did, because he launched into the story. “Well, the Minutemen have- had, heh, been going downhill since the Castle was lost back in the ‘40’s. My battalion was ran by Colonel Hollis and we responded to the town of Quincy’s call for aid from raiders. Others were supposed to show, none did. We did our best and it wasn’t good enough. One of our own turned on us, Colonel Hollis was captured and killed. I grabbed what survivors there were and we headed north.”

“There were twenty of us when we ran from Quincy. By the time we got up to Concord we were eight, then five. We were trapped in a museum under raider fire and I knew, I just... Knew. That was the end. I’d tried to keep everyone safe and failed. The raiders were assaulting us from the outside and breaking into the building. It was time.”

Preston sighed and looked south towards Concord. “I took a few shots out the door at some of the raiders in the street more out of spite than anything, saw her approaching from the north. I think I remember thinkin’, like, not another dead civilian. That vault suit made her look so defenseless. One of the raiders spotted her and took a shot she killed her way through town up to me.” Preston laughed a bit and shook his head. “And it wasn’t our time anymore. She put down the raiders and a damn deathclaw like it was just inconveniencing her.”

“I know what I’m about, and I’m good at the background stuff. Gimmie a gun, gimmie paperwork, gimmie people to take care of and I’m your man. But leading? Hell, you can ask Marcy or Jun how well I can lead people. I was so desperate to have a chance that I asked her to be our General after we pulled her out of that battered power armor. Still got no idea why she said yes, but I’m damn glad she did.”

The story explained a lot about Preston and his near-desperate need to help people. Anything that the settlers needed he worked for, sending Vera on little missions for things that didn’t really matter. Fifteen had died under his watch and he’d never stop trying to make up for that. “I understand some of what you’re feeling.” Danse started slowly, getting his words in order. “When my squad entered the commonwealth there were seven of us. If you and the General hadn’t stopped at the police station there would’ve been none. Four good men died under my command from my orders.”

Preston reached up and gave his armor a pat. “All we can do is be better, right? For them and for ourselves.” He sighed and looked around a moment to confirm they’re alone. “Can I ask something? It’s a bit personal, so don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

“You may ask.”

“Your nightmares stop yet? I... Hell, I can’t get their faces out of my head most nights.”

Danse’ first instinct is to not answer, to clam up and insist nothing was happening. But from the way that Preston worded the question he was suffering similarly to Danse. He’d understand. “No. I’m not fond of sleeping and when I do I try to be drunk. It... Helps, though, if you’re around someone who understands. Hopefully Sturges...”

“He does. God, he’s better than what I deserve.” Preston lets out a long, measured sigh before looking up to Danse. “So, hey, if you need to do a late night march around town look around, I’ll probably be there too.”

\---

Mealtime at Sanctuary had to be the most unorganized mess that Danse had ever seen. He’d been ready to go to the general mess when MacCready, fresh from hauling in scrap, grabbed him and directed him to one of the repaired houses. “Nah, Mama makes dinner a few nights a week for us. Trust me, better than what the general mess puts out.”

‘Mama’ was a chem addled old woman who spoke in a slow slurring voice to the assembled group in her house. Old tables filled the main space and a motley crew sat around it: Ingram, Sturges, and Tom had clustered around one edge of the table and argued over various points of the schematics while nearby Hancock attempted to tease Nick. The old Synth was having none of it, rolling his eyes and snapping back wittily at him. Mac had followed the old woman into the kitchen to assist her and smacked Garvey away when he tried to do the same, apparently Mac really wanted to get a taste test of whatever she was cooking. It smelled pretty good so Danse didn’t begrudge him that. Piper was harassing the man in the sunglasses from the Railroad who looked to be having an exceptional time lying to her.

“Siddown, any open seat.” The old woman drawled as she carried plates past Danse on route to the table. “Preston, sit. I ain’t too old to bring dinner over.”

“Yeah, boyscout.” Mac helped carry plates over, looking a little too smug that he’d gotten the chore. Danse sat awkwardly and was passed a plate, Mama sat the second plate at the empty seat on his left. She instructed Mac to put Dogmeat’s plate on the ground and shuffled back to the table with her own plate.

“Give it another minute.” She advised, looking at the door. Danse could hear someone coming up the walk and Vera entered, Dogmeat hopping around her feet. She looked surprised at the gathered group, though Dogmeat wasted no time dashing over to the plate on the ground. “Hey there, kid. Your plate’s over there.”

Vera’s surprise melted into a warm grin and she took her seat, grazing a hand down Danse’ arm as she did. “Oh man, Mama, you made fried chicken?” She asks with glee, beaming at the plate. “Fuckin’ score.”

Danse had assumed that things would quiet as they ate, but if anything people got louder. Even Ingram adds to the noise, calling down to Mama: ‘If you keep feeding me like this I might have to make an excuse to work on the project longer.’. The food is good, better than anything he’s had in long time. Warm and crunchy and just sort of homey and wholesome. Mama gets up at one point and brings around more chicken, making sure to put an extra piece on Danse’ plate. “Here you go, honey. You need some love.”

“Don’t worry, Mama, m‘sure the General gives him lots of love.” Sturges calls down from the end of the table waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. Ingram snorts into her mashed potatoes beside him while Tom looks a little confused as to what’s funny but he’s willing to laugh anyway. Danse turned a dark red and glowered down the table at the mechanic.

“Not as much love as you give Preston, on account of your giant dick and all.” Vera replied without missing a beat. Across the table Preston turns just as red as Danse, pulling his hat down as if that would shield him. “Oh, I’m sorry Pres, are we still doing the ‘Sturges and Preston aren’t an utterly adorable couple’ thing?”

“We were, thanks.” Garvey sank lower in his chair. Mac patted his shoulder, still snickering at him.

Danse nudged Vera with his own shoulder, looking down at her. “Don’t pick.” Not on Preston, at least. Sturges was fair game. He leaned over the table and looked down it at Sturges. “Y’know, if you do anything to hurt him not even Valentine will be able to find your body.”

“Slit’cha throat in ya sleep.” Vera agreed with a heavy pre-war accent, waving a switchblade in the air. Where she got it was anyone’s best guess, but from Valentine’s sigh this wasn’t a unique event at Sanctuary.

He held out his metal hand and she obediently tossed it to him. “No knives at the table.” The sunglasses spy looked at him for a moment before slowly pointing up at himself. Nick nodded sternly and the spy passed his own knife down the table, Hancock adding his own when it passed him. “Crowd gets rowdy and a bit stabby over certain topics.”

“Hey, all I said was that Moe had the right idea about baseball.” Vera said and across the table MacCready sighed loudly.

“And all I said was that you’re full of shiii-take, because I’ve played baseball. Doesn’t matter that I’m not two hundred some years old, because the Kid from 101 taught all of us in Little Lamplight and I trust him more than you.” Huh, MacCready was from the Capital Wastes? 

“And then I said the kid from 101 was full of shit, and-” Mac lunged over the table at her and Vera pulled back. “Yeah, kinda like that, but knives were involved. Mostly on my half of the table.”

“I mean,” Danse was surprised that Ingram was chiming in. Apparently the argument was too good not to. “I’ve met Jacob, so I know you’re full of shit.”

“Thank you!” Mac said, gesturing wildly at Vera. “I f-reaking told you!” Vera looks unimpressed and made a ‘blah blah blah’ gesture with her hand. “Hey, just ‘cause you never met him doesn’t mean you can disrespect him!”

Vera paused her talking hand, swiveling it around to point at Mac before moving it as she spoke. “That just makes him an easier target.” She squawked out before dissolving into laughter at Mac’s indignant face. “Ah, Christ, look at you, like an angry toddler.”

“Hey, he is the reason that they’ve got pure water up in the Wastes.” The spy says, though he looks pretty amused at the entire situation. “I mean, that’s pretty awesome.”

Vera thought about that for a minute. “All I hear is ‘unlimited bathing’. Think Maxson could get me on a base there?”

Danse and Ingram both say “No” in near unison at that. Vera blows a raspberry in return.

The rest of dinner is like that, people hollering across the tables and the occasional fight breaking out and being broken up by Nick. Preston picks up plates when people finish and starts in on the washing for Mama, who looks to be drooping a bit. It was getting late.

“I see why you didn’t mention much about Valentine in your reports.” Ingram says after dinner, watching Nick hand knives back out to people when they got outside of the house. “Maxson isn’t level headed when it comes to synths.”

Hancock and the spy got their knives back without a fight, but when Vera tried to get her knife back Nick held it in the air as high as he could, a slight smile playing at his lips. Vera growled and jumped for it once, then started climbing up the synth. Danse snorted as Nick yelped, free arm pinwheeling in an effort to keep his balance. “I’ve noticed. I don’t feel that Valentine is a threat to operations, so it wasn’t something I felt that needed to be mentioned with how attached the General is. Imagine what she’d do if he demanded him destroyed.”

“Yeah, as long as the Castle has active artillery it’s like walking a mine field. Honestly, that thing’s pretty impressive. The personality matrix is superior to anything I’ve seen. Even some of the Gen3 can’t act that human, that’s why they get caught.” Vera had successfully scaled the synth and reclaimed her knife back and after a moment of thought she swiped his hat, jumping off of him and taking off. Nick swore and chased after her, metal hand going up in reflex to hold down the hat that wasn’t there. “Elder’s gonna hate it.”

“Mmhm.” Danse escorted Ingram back to the project site. Nearby, Hancock had joined in the hunt for Nick’s hat. 

Unfortunately for them somehow Vera had already scaled a house and was wearing the hat while sitting on a the roof. “Out of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world and she’s gotta walk into mine.” She mimicked Nick’s accent down at him.

“Wearin’ a man’s hat and mockin’ his voice to his face.” They stared at each other for a moment and Nick sighed, giving up. “We didn’t exactly believe your story, Miss O’Shaughnessy. We believed your two hundred dollars. I mean, you paid us more than if you’d been telling us the truth, and enough more to make it all right.” He quoted as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one and waving it around dramatically.

Vera climbed down off of the roof and handed him his hat back. “Thank you for indulging me, my old timey detective.” Valentine sat the hat back on top of his head. Vera grabbed Hancock’s hat next to see if it would get a similar reaction, but the ghoul just took a jet inhaler from his pocket and took a hit.

“Whatever floats your boat, sister.”

She was different in Sanctuary. Hell, she’d been changing since he met her but it was more pronounced here in her home. Less irritable, more playful, more... Like a kid. It struck Danse then that he didn’t know her age. He’d put her in her early twenties, had younger adults been permitted to be childish pre-war?

Ingram gave him a shove and walked back into the boarded off project site, leaving him alone in twilight. He isn’t left alone for long, however, because Vera walks across the street still wearing Hancock’s hat. “Hey, you.”

Even if she’s changed since that first fateful meeting, the smile on her face still makes his stomach flutter. “Hey yourself.” Quick, Danse, think of a subject to speak about. Anything. “Uh...Would you like to join me on a patrol around the perimeter?”

Vera hummed and tossed Hancock back his hat before reaching up to wrap her arms around one of his. “Yes.” She doesn’t talk a lot as they patrol around, just waves at the occasional guard that they pass but otherwise seems content to just enjoy the evening. 

The silence is broken when they pass near the riverfront area where a bar’s been constructed. “We’ve got a couple material missions going on tomorrow to find needed scrap. One’s at a building downtown that’s got a moderate gunner population, the other one’s at an ex-military base that recon says has a lot of still active robots. You game for either?”

Danse thinks a moment on the options before replying. “The military base would be the best use of my armor. Perhaps with Nick, Mac, and Preston if he’s able. That would leave yourself, Piper, Hancock, and the spy to do an infiltration of the gunner nest.” Wait, this wasn’t his operation. He’d probably overstepped at the suggestion.

“And that leaves me with all the people you like least.” She just laughed and didn’t seem to be bothered. “Granted, sneaking sounds fun. You trust me to be sneaky when you’ve seen how I fight?”

“I trust you.” 

She unwrapped one of her arms from around his and reached up to stroke the side of his face. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m a liar and a cheat.” She punctuated the sentence with a little tap to his nose. “A really bad one.”

Danse gripped her wrist then slid his hand up to loosely hold hers before pulling it from his face and kissing the back of it. It felt a bit awkward to do such a thing, but it was worth it when her face flushed. A bit of revenge for all the times she embarrassed him. “I think you’re trustworthy. Good to have in a fight, too. I wouldn’t want to be against you.”

Vera looked up at him before dragging a hand across her face and snickering. “Ah, I’ve been putting off fixing my place in favor of getting everyone else here setup since I’ve been sleeping in the vault. I’m regretting that because I’d like to have you over but, yenno, the whole town would hear since I’ve got holes in the wall. I’ve cockblocked myself.” She sighed and looked up towards town. “Where you staying, the bunkhouse?”

“That’s where Preston directed us.”

“You can stay in my place, I’ve pulled some mattresses in there preparing for when we finally start working on the house. Cods’ll make breakfast. It’ll be great.” Vera grinned up at him. “Like camping, but with a mostly intact roof, halfway intact walls, and a robot butler.”

Danse snorted but he knew he’d wind up staying with her rather than the bunkhouse. Less people meant less awkwardness when waking up from nightmares. “Which house is yours?”

“That one, across from Sturges’. Oh, I made sure his house had walls right off. I love Pres, but I got zero desire to hear what they get up to.” She steered him past the remains of an old playground, past a house with a power armor docking station on the drive, and across the street to the lone dark house in the cul-de-sac. The only light coming from within was from the Mr. Handy’s propulsion. Vera picked up and lit a small lantern that had sat by the door and opened the front door. “Hey, Cods, wanna help set up the mattresses?”

The handy swiveled about and it’s eyes all focused on Vera. “Why, mum! Of course, whatever you need! Having a strapping gentleman friend over, eh?” It asked with a chortle. It started to push furniture about in the old living room as Vera gestured for Danse to follow her down a hall. In what had once been a utility room there were a pair of vault-tec mattresses on their side. She tugged one into the living room and he pulled the other out. The overenthusiastic handy promptly tossed what bed linens that had been scrounged onto Vera.

“Thanks, Cods.” Vera shoved blankets around into a nest similar to what she’d had in Diamond City. “I’ll grab a few buckets of water. The plumbing technically works, but there’s no running water so you just gotta refill the fill tank manually. Apparently the one thing they didn’t cheap out on in this subdivision was the pipes.” And then she was gone out the door.

The Handy floated around and peered after her. “Ah, mum.” It sighed forlornly before one of it’s eyestalks turned towards Danse. It jumped a bit in the air as if it’d forgotten about him and swiveled around towards him. “Ah, Sir! I apologize, the ol’ manners got about as rusty over the years as I did! Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

“Uh, sure.” The Mr. Handy line robots were always a bit unnerving, why in the world would a consumer household robot be equipped factory standard with a blowtorch and saw? There’d always been stories handed down of Handy’s that got a bug in their programming and used the saws on people all while cheerily chatting about the weather. This one seemed functional, humming as it swiveled around to present him with a can of purified water. “Thanks.”

“It is my pleasure to serve!” And it did seem joyous as it floated around. It must have been many boring years without a master to serve. “How should I refer to you, sir?”

“Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel.” Danse cracked open the purified water and leaned against the back of the couch, watching the Handy bumble around. He could hear footsteps coming up the walk outside and Vera ducked in to the house, bucket of water in each hand. 

She went around the corner into what Danse assumed was a bathroom before coming back out and peering through the empty window. Danse crouched beside her and looked: across the street there was a pair back lit by the lights in Sturges’ house. A man in a slouch hat and a slightly taller, thicker man who stood close to one another. Not quite touching, but almost. Beside him Vera made a little annoyed growl and leaned halfway out the window. “Kiss him you coward!” She called, shaking her fist at them.

Preston crumpled a bit, hands going to hide his face. Sturges laughed and gave her a one finger salute before scooping Preston up off of his feet despite his protests and hauling him inside the house.

“I’m a great boss.” Vera leaned back into the house and looked pleased with herself. “Preston needs a little push every now and then.”

He spent a mostly sleepless night in the house, but he was joined in his insomnia by Vera. Instead of falling asleep and sprawling over him as she usually did she curled by herself and eventually got up to pace the house. She settled in a back room and, with little else to do except not sleep, Danse got up after a while and went to check on her. 

It’d been a child’s room once, still had all the furniture and the derelict crib. She’d curled up in a chair that once upon a time she’d likely held and fed her child in, comforted him during the night. He had no idea what to do here. Danse knew she wasn’t sleeping, that she was curled up in the chair watching him. After a moment he cleared his throat. “Want to do a perimeter check?”

She’s silent, like she’s going to ignore him, but eventually rises to her feet with a soft “Sure.”. She doesn’t touch him as they walk around, just crosses her arms over her vault suit and stares around her. “I’ve gotta get used to being in that house. Maybe make some good memories there. As is I just see ghosts in every corner.”

“Would you like me to escort you to the vault?” She should be able to sleep at the very least, though Danse didn’t understand how anyone could be comfortable in the chill underground.

Vera shook her head and started pointing out things in the neighborhood. Who her neighbors had been pre-war, what they’d been like. “I never saw this place until I came back from the war. It was jarring, so pristine and perfect.” She pointed down at the ruins of the playground. “Fell in with Nate down there a few nights after I got back, had Shaun about eight months later. I never really got to live here, so I don’t know why this place hurts so bad at night.”

It could be a myriad of things but likely boiled down to that she had distractions during the day but only had her mind at night. “I’m sure there are others up. Sometimes it’s best to distract yourself if sleep isn’t a possibility.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus this chapter was supposed to finish with the return from the institute and boy howdy did it spiral out of control.


	11. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a warning for PTSD mentions.
> 
> It also gets a mention for being entirely out of control. No betas, we scream into the void like men.
> 
> Also: Get your flu shots kids -thumbs up- this has been a PSA from your friendly neighborhood idiot who still can't breathe right.
> 
> Here's an edit: Broke my finger tonight so typing is gonna be extra slow

“Y’know, that is not a team that inspires confidence.” Mac said as he stared over at the secondary team. Piper looked at least somewhat competent, Hancock was clearly high, and both were enjoying watching Vera smacking Deacon with his own wig. “Twenty caps says that at least one of them comes back with a gunshot wound.”

Nick snorted and lit a cigarette, shaking his head. “Hell, I’ll raise you another twenty that Deacon winds up getting stabbed.”

“He does have a very stabbable face.” Danse said seriously. He had no idea what Deacon had done to earn Vera’s ire but had no doubt it was earned.

Preston, somehow managing to be the most responsible person of a party that contained Nick Valentine and Danse, frowned at their betting. “Maybe we shouldn’t take bets on the safety of our friends? You know, just a thought here.”

Mac threw an arm around Preston’s shoulders, having to stand on his toes to do so. “Aw, c’mon Preston. Live a little. We’re just joking.”

“Joke about something else.” Preston elbowed Mac away from him with a serious frown. Mac rolled his eyes and fell into step with Preston despite his rebuke.

Meanwhile, Deacon was trying to unite his team with a little team building exercise. “Y’know, we need a team name. I think ‘Death Bunnies’ has a great vibe to it.” Vera shot him an entirely unimpressed look. “Not that kind of Bunny, boss. I mean, Hancock is clearly the only one here that could carry off that kind of outfit.”

Vera stopped and looked at Hancock for a moment. “He does have the legs for it.” She agreed. Hancock just grinned.

“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about, but I do got legs for days.” He hiked up his pants a bit and showed off his calves. Deacon swooned back towards Vera, who stepped out of the way and let him flounder around and fall on his ass.

“Ah, Jeeze, Hancock.” Piper waved a hand at his legs and turned her head. “Put that away. Nobody wants to see that.”

Hancock retaliated by hiking his pants up his leg more. Deacon burst into laughter from his spot on the ground, and Vera loudly proclaimed that: “Christ, it’s like a hunk of beef jerky.”

“Yeah they’re gonna do great. Try not to get your a-ssrse shot before you pay me the rest of what you owe me, boss!” Mac called over with a shake of his head.

Vera benignly waved in a regal, queenly manner. “Don’t die before you’ve earned those caps, shithead.” Still, she crossed the street and gave Mac a hug despite the name calling. She repeated the gesture with both Preston and Nick before kissing two of her fingers and tapping them as high on Danse’ armor as she could reach.

“You boys have your shopping list?” She asked, smiling up impishly at Danse. “If you find me any ammo or stealth boys I won’t say no to those either.”

Nick rolled his eyes at her, reaching over to ruffle her hair as he walked past. “Yeah, like you don’t get into enough trouble while visible.”

Preston tipped his hat down as he passed, Mac gave a little two fingered salute, and Danse looked down at the General. “Be careful.” He stressed because even though he knew that she would be fine and that she’d gone on countless adventures without him, he didn’t like her being away.

“You too. Take care of them for me.” Vera patted the chest of his armor and smiled up at him. Danse gently touched the back of her hand with the tips of his gauntlet fingers.

“Understood.”

Things started out well: Danse could keep hostiles off his teammates backs and Mac was worth every cap that Vera’d paid him, he was impressively accurate. Garvey was calm and competent as he’d always been, and Danse had been beside Nick in so many firefights that it was getting easy to predict how he’d move.

The military base looks unimpressive from the outside but they entered with caution. The upper floor had a few patrolling Mr. Gutsy robots and several doors locked via terminal. Nick was able to get them past each one with a bit of work.

The large computer bays, or whatever they were called, up top were picked clean of the circuitry needed for the signal interceptor. Luckily the base had a lower level which could also be searched. That, however, was where the entire operation went pear shaped.

The lower level was quite spacious and had much more headroom than Danse would have assumed. It apparently had been made deep to accommodate for a pair of sentrybots that had been placed there to guard whatever it was that the government had done in the facility.

“Mac- Stay on the stairs, take shots when you can!” Danse barked at him. “Garvey, get yourself to another vantage point! Valentine, with me, avoid and distract them until they expose their cores for the snipers!”

Garvey paused for a moment behind Danse until he was certain that the Sentrybots had a bead on the larger target before dashing off and climbing up a mesh cage, laying flat on it’s top and making himself as small of a target as he could. Mac had retreated up the stairs and knelt down, taking pot shots as he could. Nothing that would draw their attention too much, but just enough to distract them if they started putting too much heat on Danse or Valentine.

In a social situation Valentine might look like a broken down old bot, but in combat he showed exactly why Synths were a danger to humanity. He dodged bullets and melee attacks with speed that no human could come close to matching. In fact, Danse had to absorb a lot more of the attacks than he would’ve liked because despite how nimble his steps were it was pretty hard to outrun a bullet. His power armor was holding strong, though: he’d always ascribed to the idea that if you took care of your armor it’d take care of you. 

One of the bots entered it’s cooldown phase, slumping to the ground while the rear access panel fell open and vented steam. Mac took his shot, coming down closer to the bottom of the stairs and firing two shots into the exposed cores. His aim is true and Danse dives backwards as the Sentry shudders and the cores go off.

Mac’s on the stairs for a moment, his face bright with a prideful grin. Then there’s a red laser on his chest and the sniper doesn’t have time to look surprised before the laser comes, knocking him backwards up the stairs. The blast originated from a stealthed Assaultron likely drawn to Mac from him landing the final blow on the Sentrybot.

Preston furiously cranks his musket and fires at the now visible Assaultron and his aim is true, catching it in the head and knocking it’s face panel off. That at least gets rid of the danger of it hitting anyone else with the beam.

Mac doesn’t get up. The stair is silent.

“I’ll ask her for a dance!” Valentine called as he abandoned his distraction of the remaining sentrybot, passing by Danse on his way to engage the Assaultron. Danse pivots and moves to take his spot, trying to focus on positioning the bot so that Preston will be able to get a shot on it’s cores once it popped the hatch on it’s back and not on the fact that there’s no movement in the stairwell.

Valentine yelps from nearby: the Assaultron has moved into melee range and managed to catch one of his arms. It grasps him by the wrist and plants one foot on his side and with one swift harsh pull the horrific sound of metal bending and something close to flesh popping as Valentine’s skeletal arm pops off. The Assaultron continues it’s barrage as Nick screams.

He can’t be everywhere at once! There- the Sentrybot starts to shut down and as soon as Danse is certain that it’s gone into standby he’s turning and running for Valentine. He hears a shot from the laser musket then boots hitting concrete, Preston enters his peripheral vision as he dashes for the stairs as the second sentrybot’s cores detonate. The Assaultron had gotten Valentine on his back and the Synth is clearly straining keeping it from tearing into him.

Danse kicks it away, taking care not to disable the legs lest it decide to explode and do more damage. His Gatling laser starts to chew through the bot’s plating and Valentine finds his pistol and adds in a few shots. Eventually the lights fade from the assaultron and it goes still. Danse does a far quicker perimeter check than he should before hurrying over to Valentine.

Valentine’s making pained, shuddering exhales as he drops his pistol and clutches the gaping hole where his arm had been. There’s no blood or fluids of any sort, just frayed snapped wires and a slight smell of ozone. “Shit.” Nick gritted his metal teeth and sat on the ground trying to get his bearings.

“Garvey, report!” Danse barked out as he scooped up Nick’s arm, still in the remains of his trench-coat sleeve. He has no idea what to do in this situation, it’s not like he can field triage the Synth and he’s reasonably sure that he won’t stop functioning without an arm.

Garvey’s slipping out of his duster and pillowing it under Mac’s neck. “Alive, not stable. Got himself a stim and laid low. You got a free hand?”

Danse looked down at Valentine’s severed arm in his gauntlets and had the sudden mad desire to laugh. No. There would be no going to pieces even though two of the four members of his team were down because Danse never should’ve made it past an initiate, let alone have been given any team. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Are you stable, Nick?”

The old bot grimaced and nodded, painstakingly climbing to his feet. He slowly peeled his hand from the gaping shoulder hole and held his hand out for his arm, tucking it into his coat’s belt when it was given over. “Take-” He pauses and breathes in, sounding like he’s in considerable pain. “Take care of Mac. I’ll find the parts.” Valentine said before shuffling off slowly towards the computer bays.

Danse exits his armor near the stairs and joins Garvey beside the prone Mac. His shirt’s been torn open and Preston was applying pressure to staunch bloodflow. “Take over here so I can stim him and slow the bleeding before bandaging him.” It’s strange that Garvey always insists that he’s no leader, because right then in the heat of the moment he takes the mantle of leadership from Danse and directs him without a second thought. He does as he’s told and Preston pulls back to rummage through his pack for bandages and stims.

For a moment, for one horrible nauseating moment, it’s not Mac under his gloves. It’s Branch, torn to hell by landmines but still clinging to life by the barest of threads. He can hear Haylen priming a stim and trying to triage, can hear himself assure Branch that he’ll be fine despite how he chokes on his own blood. He’s gotten this man killed, a good man who’s prime flaw was trusting that Danse could make a goddamned battle plan, and-

Mac laughs a bit, leaning back onto Garvey’s duster. “Hey, tin-can.” He gasps out and there’s blood coating those hideous decaying teeth. “Tell- Tell the boss for me. Med-Tek, there’s somethin’ called Prevent. Get it to Daisy. Tell her...” There’s tears in Mac’s eyes that he’s trying to blink back as he continues to speak. “Tell her to tell Duncan I’m sorry. Daddy tried.”

“He won’t have to hear that, you’re going to survive.” Danse roughly assured him, continuing to keep pressure on him, lying just like he’d lied to Branch. Preston comes back with two stims, a syringe of Med-x, and bandages. “We’re going to make it back to Sanctuary and you’ll tell the General all about how you blew a Sentrybot with one shot from fifty yards away.”

“Fifty? I think more like a hundred. Then we’re going to find whatever you need for your boy.” Garvey said soothingly, injecting one stim above the laser wound and one below, gently massaging the injection spots after. Mac whimpers and tries to keep a brave face. He’s going to be hurting tomorrow, an overabundance of stims would keep you alive but not too happy as your body recovered from being forced to knit itself back together. Once the wound had started to knit itself together Garvey bandaged his torso and hit him with the Med-X.

What else was there to do at that point. Danse doesn’t look at his hands soaked in blood from a man under his command. He just gets up and back into his armor before picking Mac up. Garvey has him pause so he can button Mac’s duster up and layer his own over that.

Valentine joins them before they all head up the stairs, Garvey taking point. “You all right there, Nick?” Garvey calls back as he watches around himself with sharp eyes.

“I’ll keep.” The Synth is shuddering slightly as they move, making no complains but clearly in a lot of pain. “Gettin’ a lot of negative feedback from the missing arm. Hafta take care of that later.”

Mac tips his head back to look over at Nick and he starts to giggle when he spots the Synth. “Man,” His voice slurs as he speaks, clearly the Med-X is kicking in. “Forget her shankin’ Sturges. She’s gonna fuckin’ kill us, we got robot-dad hurt.”

The trip back to Sanctuary is slow going and more than once they have to rely on Garvey stealthily darting out ahead and taking care of problems for them. As soon as they hit the road south of Sanctuary Preston darts ahead to let the settlement know. His advance warning has the town doctor ready to meet them, a rickety but serviceable stretcher at her side.

Danse deposited him down onto it and Preston grabbed the right hand side while Doc Anderson grabbed the left hand side and started pushing it towards her clinic. He made a step towards it as well when Deacon of all people jogs down and helps them get the stretcher up the unlevel ground.

If Deacon was back then, yes, there comes Vera their way. He still hasn’t thought of how to explain how things went wrong, how he managed to get two of their group inured when she’d told him to watch out for them. For the moment he doesn’t have to worry about her ire, while she’d initially started to go for Doc Anderson’s she’d nearly tripped over her own feet changing her path once she’d seen Nick.

“Nicky, the hell happened?” She asked, touching his side with the most delicate hands. “Jesus. Your whole shoulder is fucked.”

Nick didn’t waste time with banter as he normally would, instead roughly gesturing towards Sturges’ house. “He got electrical tape? M’gettin’ feedback still from sensors, need to tape ‘em off till I can get repaired.”

“Yeah, let’s get you taken care of. Drop off your armor, Danse, you can help fix this. I’ll let Sturges know we’re stealing his house for repairs.” Vera waved them off in the direction of Sturges’ house. Before she could get too far Nick called her back and handed over the stuff he’d pulled from the bays.

His armor was dropped off and Danse joined Nick in Sturges’ house, sitting gingerly down on an armchair. He sits there for a while, staring off at nothing. Once or twice he thinks he hears Nick try to attempt conversation, but it’s almost white noise. After a bit he shakes his head roughly and goes back to the task at hand. “How do I...?” He gestured towards Nick’s shoulder a bit helplessly. He had no idea how to fix this.

Nick put the arm down onto the coffee table and undid his belt, shrugging the coat off. His tie was loosened enough to pull over his head and he dropped the suspenders off his shoulders. “For now, all we gotta do is stop the feedback. Figure it’ll take a bit to put me back together, all I want is it to stop hurtin’.” Nick undid the top few buttons on his shirt and shrugged that off too, leaving him in an old faded white undershirt that gave Danse a better view on what was happening inside the Synth.

Literally, on his right side Nick was mostly down to the frame. Inside his shoulder Danse can see his metal skeleton and it really does look like a metal mockery of the real thing. Danse edged a bit closer to look into where his joint would’ve been. The part of the joint is still there, but it’s wrenched likely beyond repair. Several wires hung limply that had likely been attached to the missing arm.

“You got a knife on ya?” Nick asked and offered a worn pocketknife after Danse shook his head. He reached out to take it and saw that his gloves were still stained in Mac’s blood. For a moment Danse pulled his hands back and rested them on his knees, fingers curled under his palms. Breathe in. Breathe out. With more force than was necessary he pulled his gloves off and roughly dropped them on the ground, grabbing the knife from Nick. The Synth had been silent while Danse struggled with everything in his brain. “Gonna need a pair of pliers if Sturges has any around.”

The front door opened and Vera let herself in. “Sturges said we’re welcome to the place and he’s got electric tape in his toolbox. You need anything else?” She started down the hallway towards a back room. “Doc A says Mac should be all right but he’ll need downtime.” She adds before heading into one of the rooms.

“Good to hear. You see any side pliers in his toolbox? Kind with rubber handles.” There was a rustling sound and Vera held a pair out into the hallway. “Yeah, those kind. My wire are live, don’t want ya gettin’ a shock.”

Vera silently held the pliers out to Danse and he mumbled a quick thanks as he took them. “So, what, just strip the ends and tape them off for now?”

“Yeah, can tie ‘em back into my arm later.” Danse wasn’t sure how this would help him to stop hurting, but the more wires he sealed off the less tense Nick was. He’d hazard a guess but honestly? He didn’t have the mental reserves to play pretend. All he could do was focus on the task at hand.

Once he finished the work Nick shrugged a new jacket on, the other many layers of clothes had been tossed in a nearby bag apparently while Danse was focused on the repairs. Vera came up silently and pinned the empty sleeve up for him. “Thanks doll.” Nick smiled and squeezed her hand with his remaining one. “Mmm, that joint looks all kinds of messed up.” He said grimly, looking down at the arm on the table at the now bare arm that remained.

“Yeah, I figure we can have Sturges take a look at it, but with how bent it is it’ll probably be unsound. Dee’s got a mission he’d like my help with, I’ll bring you back some arms.” Vera’d been busy while he’d been fixing, apparently. She wouldn’t have had time to talk to Deacon, check in with Sturges, and check in on Mac while they waited, right?

It’d been late afternoon when they’d gotten back to Sanctuary, yet no light comes in through the weak spots in the walls. Danse stared suspiciously at the doorway at the darkness outside. “Tell Sturges I’ll have his house back to him before long and thanks for letting me use it. Drop your stuff off with Anne, she’ll get it patched up.” Vera said to Nick, guiding him out.

When the door clicks shut behind Nick Vera stands there, hand pressed to it’s surface for a just a moment. When she moves she does it slowly, turning just her upper half around to stare at him. Danse sits up ramrod straight and waits for the fallout. There’s going to be fallout. It may be D-Day bad. 

After watching him for a moment she sighs, crossing the ruined floor to perch on the arm of the chair beside him. Vera tugs his hood down and slips a hand up into his hair, greasy and sweaty from the day’s events. “Mac’s put back together, Nick’ll keep till we get him a new shoulder, Sturges is watchin’ out for Preston. How do I fix you?” She sounds almost affectionate, which is the wrong emotion for her to be expressing. Vera should be livid that he failed, that he caused a member of the team to be damaged and another member to be highly injured.

“Fix me? I don’t- I’m not broken.” Danse shook his head and pulled away from her. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to fix.” Vera rests both hands in her lap and watches him almost like Neirah watched her molerats. Inquisitive but affectionate. He didn’t like that look on her. “Why aren’t you angry with me? I failed.”

“You got all the members of your team home alive and completed your mission objective despite the intel not being thorough. You adapted.” She speaks softly, carefully rising to her feet and moving from the arm of the chair to stand in front of him. “Can I touch you or will that make you more uncomfortable?”

Right, he’d pulled from her. She likely assumed that the touch itself was unwelcome instead of her kindness. When he gives a silent nod Vera steps forward, pulling his head to her chest and holding him to her. He winds up pressed between her slight breasts, her arms wrapped around his head, her chin against his crown. After a few heartbeats he hesitantly wraps his arms around her.

Danse is a liar. He’s broken and he knows it, knows that a normal man could deal with failure and injury without being able to think of nothing except how Branch had bled out despite their triage. How easy it would’ve been for Mac to join everyone else he’d gotten killed in the line of duty. Dawes had a child and a spouse, what was one more dead father to add to his count? “Did you know Mac has a son?” He asked roughly, words muffled as he spoke them into her chest.

“No, he never told me.” One of her hands scratches at his scalp despite the grime. “Preston said he’s after something for him. That’s on my list in the next few days to tackle. If you’re up to it we can go out together.”

Danse wasn’t sure he was ‘going to be up’ for anything anytime soon. He knows that he should be stronger than what he is. So fucking weak. Vera doesn’t seem to mind, or at least she’s good at hiding her disgust. She seems content to hold his head as long as he needs. It’s at that thought that he pulls back, however. She’s got better things to do than deal with his mess. She lets him go, hands slipping down to his shoulders and smiling so softly and sadly at him. How to recover from this embarrassing situation....

“So, know what’s the best part about being in the handyman’s house?” Vera asked, raising her brows and smiling down at him. “Working bath tub. I started it earlier and put a cover on it, should still be warm enough for you to wash up. Back room, to the left. I’ll grab you some clothes.”

He frowned as she pulled from his arms, almost wanting to pull her back close to him. No, couldn’t abuse her time more than he already had. “Hot water can’t be easy to get out here. You shouldn’t waste it on me.”

Vera smirks and presses a soft chaste kiss to his forehead. “Bigger men than you have tried to tell me what to do, Victory Danse, and I beat every one. Let me be kind. God knows I don’t do that enough.” She tips his head up a bit and holds his face between her hands before giving another soft little kiss, this one to the tip of his nose. “Go get clean. Y’gross.” 

She leaves and he does as he’s ordered, it’s easier to seek shelter than to yell at a storm. The bathroom is surprisingly clean for the wastelands, the tub is a massive cast iron affair centered on the left wall with a makeshift plywood lid over the top. He pulls that back and strips off his flight suit, stepping in. It’s still surprisingly warm. When’s the last time he had a bath? The Prydwen had showers equipped, but it’d been... God, since the Citadel?

Danse was content to soak for a bit, to let the only thing he focused on be the sound of water splashing as he moved. Sometime later there’s a knock and Vera lets herself in, a bag strung over one shoulder and dragging a wooden chair. He squinted over the side of the tub at her and the chair. “...Are you planning on staying in here?”

“Danse I got like one job right now, and that’s taking care of you. Let me take care of you.” Lies, she had many jobs and taking care of a Brotherhood paladin wasn’t one of them. Vera put the chair by his head and her bag was tossed in the sink. She spent a few moments rustling around in it before pulling out a towel, his shaving kit, soap, and clean clothes. She tossed the soap into the bathtub before turning back around and setting things up. That meant she didn’t catch the dirty look Danse shot at her when water splashed up into his face.

He lathered up his arms and managed not to flinch when she settled in the chair by his head. “Dunk your head under for me.” She orders and he complies. Once his hair’s wet she uncaps a bottle of hair soap and starts massaging it in. Huh. Wow. That was nice. Danse slumped down a bit more in the water and let his eyes close. “I don’t really know how to care for people. I just do what I’d want done to me and hope it’s the best.”

She tipped his head this way and that before pulling it back against the lip of the tub, leaning over him and kissing his lips. After coaxing him to rinse his hair out Vera’s fingertips pressed into the back of his head by his spine and slowly worked their way down his neck. She hummed under her breath as she massaged his shoulders, eventually leaning forward and draping herself around him, resting cheek to cheek. 

Hesitantly, he reached up and gently held onto her wrists. “Thank you.” He said softly and what paltry words they are. They can’t begin to explain how he really feels, what he’s thanking her for. Ignoring that he’s a broken mess, treating him with kindness and soft touches. Reminding him he was human, that he had worth despite his flaws.

He gets a chuckle in response and a soft kiss to his cheek before she pulls back from him. “Finish getting cleaned up and meet me at my place.”

Orders were easy to follow. He cleaned himself up and dressed, then wiped the tub out and made sure that everything was in order. After that he packed everything up back into the bag and stepped into his boots without bothering to lace them. The bag was slung over his shoulder and he let himself out of Sturges’ house. The man himself was seated at a nearby pre-war patio set, chatting across the table at Preston. Danse hesitantly raised a free hand to the pair of them, getting easy waves from both.

Old drapes had been hung up over the ruins of the windows at Vera’s house, blocking out light from nearby lamps. Inside was lit by the occasional lantern but otherwise in a much similar state that he’d seen it last. Two mattresses pushed together on the floor with a pile of blankets, old furniture off to the sides. Vera stood at her counter, Gauss rifle torn apart across it’s top. She gave Danse a little wave but her attention mostly fell on her weapon.

He crossed the room and stood behind her, slowly wrapping his arms around her middle and leaning over to rest against her shoulder, watching her work. She hummed softly under her breath at that, turning slightly to peck his cheek. He stood like that for a while, just watching her hands move and put her gun back together. “Listen, we both slept like shit last night and today’s been a more trying day than most. I’ve got a syringe of Calmex that I’m planning on taking half of, you want the other half? S’not enough to get blasted off of, just enough to make sleeping less of a shitfest.”

Danse’ initial response was to refuse but the idea of sleep unplagued by dreams, good solid rest that he knew he needed, was too tempting an idea. “I.. Yes. That would be acceptable.” She hummed in response and continued putting her gun back together and he continued to lean on her and watch her do so.

Eventually the gun was reassembled and Vera stretched her arms up, one arm going back around Danse’ neck to hold him still while she stretched. “Anything else I can do to help?”

“You’ve done more than enough. Thank you.” Really, how was ‘thank you’ an adequate phrase? It didn’t come close to saying how he really thought. All he could do was vow to return the favor should she ever need. 

Once they settle down for the night Vera administers the Calmex to him first, then herself. The drug takes hold quickly, bringing drowsyness and a general sense of calm. Before it hits her too hard she nudges Danse to his side and curls up around him, one leg slipping between his and her arm going around his torso. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Jetpack’.

He awakens by himself sometime the next day, the bed feeling horribly empty without that small presence behind him. Danse sort of has half remembered feelings from earlier, a gentle hand on his face and lips on his. Soft, reassuring murmuring, a hand in his hair soothing him back to sleep.

When Danse sits up Codsworth activates itself, hovering over him and greeting him joyously. “Good morning, Paladin Danse! It’s currently one-oh-five PM and outside is 96 degrees! Shall I fetch breakfast? Oh, Mum left you a note!” It turned around and, yep, there was a note stuck to it’s chassis with a pre-war magnet.

“Sure, Codsworth. Thank you.” Danse plucked the note from it and the Handy bustled around in what had once been the kitchen and Danse unfolded the letter. ‘Danse- Went out to get Nick a new shoulder with Dee. Take it easy- my orders. More important than doctors!’and signed with just a big, bold V. That must’ve been the little almost dream he’d had, her waking him up and saying goodbye.

Codsworth brought over a few slices of sweet mutfruit bread and dried meat and let him eat breakfast while it patrolled around the house, trying to tidy the mess up. Occasionally Danse would hear the robot grumble about all the holes in the walls and how dreadfully hard it was to keep things clean with leaves blowing in all the time. “Where would materials be to repair the walls?” Danse asked the Handy, tearing into the sweet bread after the jerky was gone.

“Oh, we took great care with the destruction of the derelict houses and there’s still their remains to pick through. Mum never has time to start the project and I daresay I can’t blame her with all she does. Still...” The robot sounds so wistful.

It wasn’t like Danse has anything to do, and helping to repair the walls would be resting. Technically. It wasn’t like he’d get shot doing it. “I am not scheduled to do anything today if you would like assistance.” He offers.

All three of the Handy’s eyestalks go up and it twirls around in place, jubilant. “Truly, sir? Oh, that would be a most wonderful thing!”

Later Codsworth leads him to where the materials are stored and they pull several bits of recovered metal from the piles, transporting them back to the house. Codsworth is well equipped for the task with his saw and torch and just seems to need the direction to do the tasks.

Nick eventually joins them, hauling a ladder over and hammering through the sheet metal to run electric conduits. He strings up a single bulb in between the living area and the kitchen, running wires down the hall between all the back rooms. “Used ta do handwork around Diamond City.” He explains to Danse while perched on a ladder. It took him longer to do the jobs one handed than it would’ve with two, but he manages. “Got all sorts of tore up doing that.”

“You acquired useful skills.” Danse wiped sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve, wishing he could strip down a bit in the heat. Working closely with Codsworth and it’s blowtorch would have that be a stupid idea, however. Together they’re able to get the walls in the main living area patched up and Codsworth gleefully goes inside to tidy without the risk of more leaves floating into the house.

Once the bot is gone Danse stripped his flight suit down to the waist and tied the arms around himself. It didn’t provide much respite from the heat, but the occasional breeze felt good. He moved around to the carport and hefted the door from the ground, going inside to grab a screwdriver from Valentine’s tool bag and his ladder before returning outside to re-hang the door. He crawled up on the ladder to check the door-frame and found it to still be square enough.

He hears footsteps behind himself and pays them no mind until the person speaks. “Oooh, ooh, ooh. Ad. Vic. Torium.” Deacon. Danse glowers over his shoulder at the spy, who’s holding the index and thumb of each hand into a rectangle and peering through the gap at his ass. “They should put you on the recruitment posters.”

Danse wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, if he gave the spy an inch he’d take a mile. But if Decon had returned then Vera would have as well. He assumes that it’s her that opens the front door, and that’s confirmed a moment later when she calls out to Valentine. “Hey, Nick! I got a whole bag of arms with hopefully your name on them! Dropped them off at Sturges so we can try to piece together a shoulder for you. Did you do all this to the house?”

“Gotcha some basic wiring in here, but Danse and Codsworth did the heavy lifting.” Nick replied while Codsworth sings out Danse’ praises. Vera laughs and heads through the still open side door, looking up at him on the ladder.

Whatever she was going to say dies on her lips, her eyes widen in surprise as she stares up at him. Though she recovered quickly Vera couldn’t make the blush fade from her cheeks even when she started grinning. “Well, hello solider.”

“General.” Danse`nodded down at her as he climbed down the ladder. Vera’s hands came up even with her shoulders and she made a little grabbing motion before darting out to pat his chest a few times. “...Having fun?”

“Loads, thanks for asking.” She pat his chest a few more times in a rhythm before pulling away. “Anyway, I... I came over here for something and you have entirely derailed my train of thought. Congrats.” She thought about it for a moment before catching sight of Deacon. “Oh. Right. Deacon. Get the fuck out of my town.”

Deacon just grinned. “Sure thing, Charmer. I’ll send Dez your love.”

“Send Dez a boot up her ass. Send Glory my love. All of it.”

Deacon laughed and threw an arm up in the air, waving goodbye as he headed back to the road. Vera turned back around to Danse and stepped back a bit, giving him a long look up and down. “The whole look you’ve got going on is good for you. Really good.”

Huh. He closes the distance between them and her hands come up again to rest against his chest, squeezing lightly as she bit her lower lip. “I’m glad you approve.” Danse enjoyed the look on her face, usually she was the one making him blush and stumble over himself. Turning the tables was refreshing.

“Between the work on the house and coming outside to see you looking like this, I might have to show you how much I approve.” And with that she had the upper hand again, grinning as she walked her fingers up his chest and cupped his flushing face. “But right now I gotta get Nick put back together again.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a gentle kiss against his jaw.

Hilariously, or not depending on who you ask, she roped Ingram of all people into assisting her with repairing Nick. The Proctor, sitting on a crate without her armor frame and wrist deep in his shoulder, worked on welding the new joint in place. “So do you feel any of this?” She asked Nick.

“Nah, no sensors in the actual frame. The wires attach to sensor modules and those give me the pain when something’s wrong.” Valentine was watching her work with an impressed look on his face. “Used to be a lot more complex before I got caught in Diamond City’s water turbine. Tore me up somethin’ awful.”

Ingram grunted and leaned closer to inspect his inner workings. “We’ve brought a few of the models with ‘skin’ on-board the Prydwen, but they’re not at all similar inside. You’ve got this mesh attached to the underside of your skin. Does it transfer sensation to the modules?”

“Got it in one. ‘Course, a lot of the skin’s missing and the mesh is gone with it.” Valentine pulled a cigarette from his pack, placed it in his mouth, then lit it. “Appreciate you doin’ this.”

“Yeah, well, you can return the favor by not telling Maxson. He wouldn’t approve. I figure this is a good way to get an inside look at a non hostile synth.” Apparently everything inside the Synth looked good because Ingram moved onto assembling the shoulder joint.

Valentine laughed a bit, seeming not to mind that the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel would take personal umbrage with his existence. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll answer any questions you have, been doing maintenance on myself for a long time. Of course, still a bunch even I don’t know.”

“So I can’t pick your memory banks for insider info on the institute?” Ingram asked dryly, reconnecting the repaired upper arm to the shoulder.

“Sorry, they must’ve wiped me before they threw me out. First memory I got that’s my own is wakin’ up in a garbage heap.” Nearby Vera winces when she hears that. Danse has to admit that it doesn’t sit well with him either, picturing Nick waking up not knowing what he was alone with the refuse. “They pumped me full of some poor pre-war cop’s memories though. Imagine the shock I got lookin’ at this mug in the mirror.”

“Don’t feel too bad, Nicky. The first version wasn’t that much prettier.” Vera teased, earning herself a glare from the Synth.

Ingram finished connecting everything then untaped and re-wired him. Valentine brought his arm up and wiggled his fingers. “Say, that’s damn good work. Wasn’t expectin’ much with how mangled everything was.”

“Yeah, well, after working on the Prydwen one old synth isn’t too hard.” Ingram said dryly before shifting around on the crate she’d been sitting on and climbing back into her power armor frame. “We’ve got a vertibird coming in tomorrow to deliver me back to the Prydwen, you’ll probably want to make yourself scarce just in case.”

“Appreciate the tip.” Nick tipped his hat to her and went about re-dressing himself. “Last thing I wanna see is our girl running out with a fat man chasing after a vertibird ‘cause someone took a potshot at me.”

Vera laughed a bit, waiting until he was dressed before she snuck over to hug him. “C’mon, Nicky, you give me too little credit. I don’t even have a fat mat at Sanctuary.” Nick patted her back with both hands, letting her get a good cuddle in.

Later that night she visited Mac and got his info on Med-Tek, then informed him that she’d dope him up if need be but there was no way that he was coming along. “He was pretty pissed about that.” She told Danse as they walked towards her house. “But I got everything we need to get in, get the Prevent, and get out.”

“The plan is solid.” Danse agreed. Vera grinned over her shoulder as she opened her front door, turning around to grab him by the collar and pull him bodily into the house.

“Think I said earlier that I wanted to show you how much I approve of your behavior today...?” Her grin is mischievous as her hand slips from his collar to the zipper of his uniform, pulling it down. “If that’s all right with you?”

Did she seriously expect him to say no? “I’ll follow your lead, General.” He murmured lowly, slipping his arms free from his suit and following her back into the room.

\---

If they were a bit later on the road the next morning than was planned, well, no one would hear Danse complaining. He stayed in bed a few minutes longer than he usually would have, shifting over to his side to watch as Vera rose and dressed. Seeing her shimmy into that vault suit was almost as enjoyable as watching her slide out of it.

She caught him staring and rolled her eyes at him, turning around as she zipped her suit up. “C’mon, we’ve got to get to Med-Tek.” Vera prodded him with a foot until he rolled out of bed. She walked by when he’d climbed to his feet and cheekily smacked his ass on the pass by.

Breakfast was on the move that morning, that same sweetbread that Codsworth had given Danse the day before wrapped around scrambled eggs. The paladin half expects to see Mac loitering around town or trying to follow them out, but Vera had likely made good on her promise to knock him out. They make good time to Med-Tek then significantly worse time inside, spending hours navigating the labyrinth and fighting ghouls.

“I see why Mac couldn’t get very far now.” Vera had resorted to pulling out her tire iron in one close quarters fight and looked pretty indignant.

Danse kicked a corpse out of his way and holstered his gun, glowering. “It is indeed inhospitable. The score is fifteen to eight, by the way.”

“Stop stealing my kills.”

“I apologize for assisting you. I will stand by when the next pack attempts to savage your face.” Hm. The situation was serious. Did he risk levity....? Yes. She would appreciate it. “I thought that I was the only one permitted to do that.”

Vera snorts and Danse chalks up a point in his category. “You’re lucky you’re cute because that joke was terrible.” Lies. It was still a victory.

They secure the tube of Prevent in the old labs while Danse makes a note of the location for future salvage for the Brotherhood. The scribes would have a field day with the data from this place. 

There’s a commotion going on in Sanctuary when they return, Mac’s out and about against the wishes of both the doctor and Preston. He stops when he spots them returning and slowly starts in their direction. He’s got a nasty glare when he wants to and apparently he wants to, because lesser women would’ve been knocked over at the hostility he was shooting at Vera. It was almost comical how quickly that stopped when she held out the vial of Prevent to him. “Here, for Duncan.”

Mac took the vial by reflex and looked down at it, then up at her. “...You got it for him?” He gripped it with both of his shaking hands and was suddenly unsteady on his feet. Vera moved to support him. “I thought- This is worth a lot, you know?”

“It’s worth your boy’s life. So how about you go get it to him and bring him back here?” Vera hugged the thin man and patted his back. “You could’ve asked me to help earlier, y’know?”

“People aren’t good like you, boss.” Mac held onto her tightly, face resting against her shoulder. “They’re in it for themselves. I’m yours till the end, now. I can’t ever repay you for this.”

One of Vera’s hands slipped up into his hair and held him to her shoulder. “Hey, when I bring Shaun back here he’s gonna need someone beside Piper’s kid sister to bother. I’m sure he and Duncan will get along. You can show me how to deal with bein’ a parent.” 

\---

It was another two weeks before the signal interceptor was ready to be used. Three distinct groups of people surrounded the interceptor on that cool night: Vera’s group of friends and Minutemen, Tom and Deacon were off with Glory and the commanding redhead from the church, while Maxson himself and accompanied Ingram on this last visit to Sanctuary to see the trip himself.

(Maxson had been exactly as pleased to learn about the existence of Nick Valentine as everyone had expected he would be. Vera had threatened to ‘Give him a matching scar on the other side of his face and rip that nasty beard off’ if he raised a hand against Valentine.)

All sides held calm for the moment though, watching as Sturges talked Vera through his and Tom’s design of a network scanner so that she could grab what intel she could. Once they were through she said a few quick goodbyes: Giving orders to Preston, a hug for Mac, Piper, and Hancock, then she jogged over to the group that Danse was very insistently pretending to not recognize as the Railroad to give Tom a handshake, Glory a hug, and Deacon a swift punch to the arm.

“You do whatever you have to do. Lie to them, earn their trust.” The redhead advises. Vera just smirks at her with a roll of her eyes. before walking over to the Brotherhood group.

“Thank you for your assistance in the matter, Elder. I hope to have a lot of data to share when I return with my son.” Vera held her hand out to Maxson and he took it almost warmly. Perhaps things were improving between them?

“Godspeed, General.”

Ingram got a pair of finger guns and a verbal thanks for her hard work, which likely suited Ingram just fine. Then she stopped in front of Danse, and he didn’t know how he wanted this to go. “...Come back safe, all right?” He said softly, holding her hand when she reached up and grabbed the collar of his armor. “You’re kind of important around here.”

“Only kind of, though. Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll be back.” Vera pulled herself up and gave his cheek a kiss before heading back towards the interceptor and her last goodbye.

Valentine had gotten more and more quiet the closer the interceptor came to completion. If Danse didn’t know better he’d say that the Synth was afraid. There was a nasty part of his brain that said that Valentine had been working for the Institute the whole time and was nervous his masters were going to be exposed. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Nick. Don’t you worry.” She said before embracing him.

The Synth held her tightly, skeletal hand gripping her suit. “Be careful, Doll. Come back. Got a case for you to help out with. You remember Eddie Winter?”

“That shitstain from Southie that.... Yeah. I remember him.” Vera pulled back from the embrace and gave Nick a long look. “I’ll help with whatever you need.”

When she pulls back Nick seems reluctant to let her go, hand reaching out for her after she’s past his arms length. The synth tucks both hands into his pockets and edges backwards to wait beside Preston as Vera climbs up onto the platform and Sturges busies himself at a console. The generators kick into high gear, the frame of the interceptor groans and shakes, and with one blinding flash of light Vera’s gone.

The assembled group meanders off to different parts of Sanctuary except for Valentine, who lights a cigarette and stands in silent vigil.

A day or so later and no one really worries about Vera. She’s on a stealth operation, after all. It’ll take time. There’s the occasional complain from Mac, who wants to get started on his trip to the Capital but promised Vera he’d see her back. Valentine still stood in the same spot by the signal interceptor, waiting.

By day five mood around Sanctuary had fallen dangerously low. Conversations are held in a whisper, looking anxiously at the interceptor. It’d been easy to think that she’d succeed with no problem. Hadn’t everything in the Commonwealth gone her way?

It’s on day eight that Valentine tells him with a quiet horror in his voice: “We sent that girl off to die.” His hands twitch irritably, he’d ran out of cigarettes a few days previously and had yet to get replacements. “I let a grieving, desperate mother run into the damn lion’s den.”

Danse looked to the silent platform and felt that same despair that Valentine expressed. “You didn’t let her do anything. If you tried to stop her she would’ve ran on ahead anyway, just like she did when my armor got damaged in the glowing sea.”

Valentine grunted, looking down at the ground. “Could’ve done something.” He grumbled to himself. “Anything.”

Inside Danse’ mind there’s almost a childish chant going on, a litany of ‘She promised she’d come back to me’. He’d been content to live his life before he met her, now the idea of going on without her made the future seem so dark. “Nick...” The Paladin has no idea what words to say to comfort the Synth, he’s not certain that there are words.

The universe apparently had a flair for the dramatic, because as they spoke about the worst case scenario and as Danse floundered with finding comforting words was when the signal interceptor flared to life. Sturges sat up from his post at the control panel where he’d been napping and rang the alarm bell. People poured out of their camps, most half asleep. 

That included the Brotherhood party who had spent the last eight days camped out. Maxson lead the group, legs bare under his battlecoat and carrying his Gatling laser. He wasn’t the only one armed, Glory had her mini-gun and Hancock had, of all things, a Molotov cocktail ready to go.

“Shiiiiiit.” Sturges groaned, looking down at his console helplessly. “She’s comin’ back with a lot more energy than we sent her off. Here’s hopin’ the interceptor holds.”

It’s a dramatic lightshow as the machine roars to life, that same blue electricity shooting from the top and lighting the night sky. With one last wicked power surge there’s a figure on the pad, upright for only a moment before she falls to her knees. Above, the metal frame groaned and twisted, damaged beyond repair at the second transport. Danse and Valentine both dash forward, grasping onto Vera’s arms and dragging her off the platform before it collapses.

It’s done, she’s back, she’s alive. He starts to smile, but there’s something that knocks the smile off his face. It takes a moment to place the odd feeling he has: it’s the way she smells. Like Cade’s medbay on steroids, sterile and empty and nauseating. 

Mac speaks first, of course. Of course he would notice. “Where’s her boy?” He asks, and Vera’s hands come up to bury in her hair. There’s no response, just ragged breathing.

After a long moment she stands, pulling a holo tape from her Pip-boy and waving it around. “Institute data.” She said flatly, eyes focused on the ground. “Someone- thanks.” Sturges jogged over and took it, looking at her apprehensively and recoiling a bit when he draws near. “Gotta... Need some time.”

She makes towards the vault, but Maxson and his gigantic Gatling gun block her path. “General, we’re going to need you to stay back.” He said firmly, and there’d been so much discussion in the time that she was gone about how best to ensure that a Synth replacement hadn’t come back in her place.

To be sure, Vera sounded odd. Her movements were jerky as she’d stood and moved. Even as she stands in front of him her neck is slack and her limbs twitch oddly. From what Danse can see from her face even her color looks off, the freckles and pock marks faint and there’s a too healthy rosy tint to her cheeks. Even her hair’s different, freshly cut into a style that’s long on top and short on the sides.

Finally, after a long pause she manages to pull her head up and Maxson flinches at the look on her face. “Arthur.” She started softly, there’s tears in her eyes and rolling down her face in an exhausted and broken sort of way. It’s like she doesn’t have the energy to properly cry. “There was nothing of my baby to bring back.”

“I’m sorry.” Maxson stepped aside and allowed her to stumble past. Valentine reached out, almost catching her arm before she broke into a sprint out of town and up the hill. They could hear the Vault elevator start and, before the blast door could close again, an grief filled wail filled the air.

Metal fingers grip Danse’ arm and Valentine starts dragging him in the direction Vera had just dashed in. “C’mon. Can’t let her be alone right now. Preston, hold down the fort.”

Danse followed after Valentine, leaving behind the somber party in Sanctuary. As they stop on the elevator pad he speaks. “Know where she’ll be holed up?”

“I’d say either in the Overseer’s office... Or in her cryo pod.” Valentine sighed, flicking his lighter idly as they descended into the vault. They checked the overseer’s office and didn’t find her, so they traveled down to the cryo room.

The pod at the end was still half open, but that was more closed than it had been. They approached apprehensively and Danse can hear muffled sobs coming from inside the pod. She’s wedged herself sideways on the ground, curled into the bottom while she bites at her arm to muffle her grief. 

Nick crouched by her pod and looked in. He opened his mouth once or twice, trying to find the right words. “Hey, Doll.” He says softly, reaching out a hand to touch the side of the pod she’s in. “We’re here.”

She doesn’t move or make any indication that she notices their presence and Danse is at a loss. This isn’t like Haylen, where she came up and fell into his arms for comfort. How did he fix this?

Unbidden, her words from a few weeks past come to mind. ‘ _I don’t really know how to care for people. I just do what I’d want done to me and hope it’s the best._ ’ Danse licked his lips nervously and looked to Valentine. “I’ve got an idea. Take care of her, I have something to take care of.”

Back to the overseer’s office, and apparently Vera’s moved some things into the old Overseer’s quarters and has been using it as her bedroom. That’s reassuring, and it works well for his own plans. Anywhere that Vera spends time has to have a working bathroom. He starts the shower and makes sure that it gets warm before he finds soaps and vault towels. She’s got spare clothes in the bedroom and her usual blanket pile on the bed. Before he leaves Danse pulls the Overseer’s chair in for Valentine.

As he heads back down the hall he can hear Valentine talking, soft and gentle and so unbelievably sad. “Losin’ Genya and Volya didn’t kill you and this won’t either kid. God, I know it’s hard, but you’ll keep fightin’.”

“M’so tired, Nick. So tired.” Vera’s voice echoes softly from her pod and it breaks Danse’ heart at how broken she sounds. “I try. An’ I try. An’ I lose.” Danse crouched down beside Valentine and it takes a moment before Vera looks to him. She manages a smile just for him, a fake and brittle thing. “Gonna lose you too. Should just stop trying. Everyone leaves. Should just- end it. Always gonna be alone.”

“No.” Danse edged forward and grabbed her from the pod, preparing himself for an attack that never came. She was ragdoll limp in his arms as he pulled her out. “I’m not going to leave. I won’t leave you alone.”

“Liar.” She accused flatly as Danse stood, still limp in his arms. She didn’t say anything after that, just hung like she was dead.

Danse nodded to Valentine and they moved back to the Overseer’s chambers. Danse sat her down in the warm shower and climbed in himself. “Valentine? Got a story to tell about anything?”

The synth pulled the chair further into the bathroom and sat backwards in it, launching into some long grand story of a Diamond City case. Danse didn’t care what the subject matter was, he figured that Nick’s voice would be a boon to her nerves. He wet the washcloth and took it to her face, and the more he wiped the clearer her freckles became and the less odd her coloring was. A cream and pink residue came off her face onto the washcloth. Cosmetics. She’d had time and access to those in the Institute? What had she been up to in there?

No matter. Danse reached for the soap and took it to her hair, replacing that disgusting sterile smell with the sweet and earthy scent of the homemade soap. He pulls her under the water spray to rinse her hair out and for the first time since he’d picked her up she moves, one hand coming up to grasp at his collar and pulling herself close to him.

She’s muttering near silent words into his neck, he can’t make out anything but she sounds desperate and brokenhearted. Eventually those desperate whispers stop and she goes limp against him again. Danse pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and just held her.

Valentine’s finished one story and launched seamlessly into another, this one about how Ellie became his secretary. Apparently it involved a swatter and Vadim from the inn. It was an amusing story and well told, but it fell on the deaf ears from the silent woman in his arms.

Danse pulled her free from her vault suit; both he and Valentine had seen her naked before. He makes another note in the ‘odd things about Vera since the Institute’ column: her underclothes were new, the vault suit had been patched up. It was like she’d been treated with care while there. A thought for a different time, when he didn’t have a woman made from glass in his arms.

He checked Vera over for injuries while he cleaned her up, and when the water started to run a little chill he turned it off. Valentine stood from the Overseer’s chair and picked up one of the towels Danse had sat out, wrapping it around her when Danse passed her out of the shower. Valentine took her into the bedroom while Danse stripped out of his wet jumpsuit, hanging it up across the shower rod to dry. The Vault suit he’d grabbed as a replacement was snug, but passable.

In the bedroom Nick had gotten Vera into a long shirt and shorts and worked on towel drying her hair. It wasn’t going over too well since she’d flopped backwards as soon as she was unsupported. Danse sat on the bed and pulled her upright, making things a bit easier on him. After she’s decently dry he laid down on the bed, letting her flop with him. Nick perched on the other side of the bed, letting his good hand rest in her hair.

She doesn’t move much that next day or the day after. The only words she spoke were to Mac when he came down, wishing him good luck on his trip to the Capital Wastes. By day three in the vault she would occasionally walk around, drifting out to the overseer’s desk to play a game or two of Red Menace.

Danse doesn’t begrudge Nick for having to leave when he’s called away by an urgent case, leaving just himself and Vera in the silent vault. It’s like sharing a close space with a ghost.

Finally, after six days she turns to him and speaks the first full sentence she’s said since wishing Mac good luck. She’s bundled up in a blanket and sitting on the overseer’s chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. He’d seen her off and on fiddling with some program she was trying to crack that wasn’t Red Menace. “Danse? I wanna go to Nuka-World.”

He hadn’t heard much about it, other than that it was a pre-war amusement park . But, if she wanted it? Danse was going to make sure she got it. “All right. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Vera what took you eight days to do in the Institute?


	12. From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help, and you listened to my cry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because in the end, this is what she is. She’s surrounded herself with people who’s virtues she admires while she can’t express them herself. She’s not kind like Nick, principled like Danse, good like Preston, honest like Piper.
> 
> She’s a liar and a cheat and has never had a problem with fucking someone else over if it means she comes out on top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a giant, exhausting chapter of Vera's awful terrible very bad no good trip to the Institute.
> 
> Probably more typos than usual because ha ha ha my finger is still super broken and I'm down a typing finger.
> 
> There's some icky mentions in this chapter, some mentions of child abuse and implied sexual abuse. Nothing graphic.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It wasn’t like anything momentous had happened or anything. No, it wasn’t like she’d had all her molecules ripped apart and rearranged or anything. Wasn’t like the worst change in her life ever had just taken one more step in being unbelievably weird or anything.

‘Repetition is the sign of a weak mind.’ Vera could hear Papa’s voice snap in her head, and wasn’t it such a comfort to know that her mind and possibly a few holotapes were the only place that asshole still existed in?

Breathe.

Vera stood and surveyed her surroundings: sterile and clean, a room made with sharp lines that screamed ‘We’re paying extra to look like we’re focused on the FUTURE!’ in a way that had been popular just before the war. Smelled like ammonia, like a hospital almost. Slight undertone of ozone. It had the same quality that the Vaults did, they were underground with a filtration system that did it’s best but couldn’t scrub all the musty scent from the air.

Guess she could say they’d hit their target. Fantastic. There was only one way out of the room so that’s where she went, down the stairs towards an elevator at the bottom. “Hello.” A voice calls from the PA system and honestly? Vera’s been expecting it. It’s stupid to think that a place that’s as technologically advanced as the Institute wouldn’t see the difference between herself and a Courser. “I wondered if you might make it here. You’re quite resourceful.” Flattery, words spoken by a voice that was trying to sound personable. “I am known as Father, and the Institute is under my guidance.” 

‘Fantastic.’ Vera answered in her mind only as she waited by the fancy elevator. ‘I get to beat the shit out of this cheerful fuck who sounds like he has a Daddy complex.’ Externally she smiled in case she was on camera, looking as poised and polished as she could manage.

“I know why you’re here. I’d like to discuss things with you, face to face. Please, step into the elevator.” At his words the fancy elevator slides open. Left with no other path forward Vera steps in, still smiling as the doors close behind her.

What path is there left, really? 

“I can only imagine what you’ve heard, what you think about us.” The man sounds serious and somewhat mournful, and there’s something about the quality of his voice that is almost familiar? “I’d like to show you that you may have... the wrong impression.”

“Uh-huh.” Vera rolled her eyes a bit, squinting as bright flashes of light filled the fancy glass elevator.

More light filled the elevator as it entered into a wide open atrium. “Welcome to the Institute.” The man sounds proud of the place and honestly? It’s easy to see why. Large and well lit, filled with people in lab-coats walking around. It has a grandeur around it that, while not opulent by pre-war standards, is a stark difference to the world above. “This is the reality of the institute. This place, these people, the work we do.”

“My God, it’s full of nerds.” Vera mumbled as she looked about. Nerds everywhere, going about their nerdy lives and then throwing super mutants and synths up on the poor people of the commonwealth. As the elevator passes by a nearby ledge nerds gawk at her. Vera grins and gives a little two fingered salute as she passes them.

The voice speaking to her paused, almost like he’s taking an extra moment to process her response. “For over a hundred years we’ve dedicated ourselves to humanity’s survival.” He continues on with his script after the momentary bump in the road. He drones on a bit about this or that, all while Vera continues to smile and mock him viciously in her head. She’s going to take this fucker apart when she got a hold of him.

The elevator left the atrium and entered another small room that had only one exit, which of course lead to another elevator because of course it did. Vera’d been railroaded to this destination since she walked out of the vault, why would there be a chance to deviate from the path at the last moment? “I’d like to talk to you about what we can do for everyone.” The man said as she got on another elevator, this one much less fancy than the first one. 

“But that can wait.” He added as the doors shut behind her. “You are here for a specific, very personal reason. You are here for your son.” He goes silent after that and the doors to the elevator open.

In the brief walk from the elevator through the hallways Vera’s mind speeds through possible scenarios. The one that seems most likely is that she’s being screened for an offer of employment. She’d killed Kellogg, after all. They needed a new stooge. The way that she’d been given a guided tour, abet one where the guide was hidden. That was understandable.

They had her son, which was a pretty good carrot. She expected to walk into the door and be unable to physically interact with her son. She’d get just a show of him before someone else would swoop in and try to get her to work with them. And Vera’d lie, she’d smile so pretty and promise to do anything and the first chance she got she’d grab her boy and burn this place to the ground.

She’s not expecting the sight of a little blonde haired boy sitting on the ground and playing with his toys to hit as hard as it does, but when Vera enters the room and sees him there she has to grab the door frame to stabilize herself. It takes a moment to gain enough strength back to go to the glass. “Shaun.” It’s his name and a prayer and a whispered thanks to God all at the same time.

“Huh?” He turns his head and stares up at her, and those are her eyes and that face, it’s straight from her memories. His chubby cheeks and round face would one day slim down into the sharp angles that their family favored, but right now Shaun looked just like her twin had when they were young. “Yes, I’m Shaun.” The boy stands and looks up at her, his smile is so sweet and his eyes are so innocent and good.

There’s still time, he may not be the baby that she’d held in her arms and promised to better herself for, but he’s still her son. “It’s really you.” Vera manages to say, and though she can blink back the tears in her eyes she can’t stop the grin that spreads over her face.

Shaun peers at her through the glass, his brow furrowing as he stares up at her. “Who are you?” And isn’t it the biggest fucking shame in the world that he has to ask that question? That he didn’t know her by her voice alone, that she hadn’t held his hands when he took his first steps or helped him learn how to ride a bike, or-

Breathe. There was still time. “It’s me. I’m your mom.”

That doesn’t reassure the boy, he backs away from the glass a bit and looks nervously towards the door beside of the small pod he’s in. “What’s going on?” His eyes dart over her face like he’s trying to put together a puzzle. “Father, what’s happening?”

Vera has to stamp hard down on the spike of rage that froths up, that bastard with the Daddy complex has her boy calling him Father? “Shaun, sweetie, please. I know I’ve been gone, but look at me. I’m your mom.” No, there was no time for tears. Goddamnit, she can’t stop them from pooling in her eyes any more than she can stop her throat from tightening up around the words she tries to speak. “Mommy’s here.”

It doesn’t reassure him, though he stares at her face and into her eyes (they’re the same damn eyes, he should know that he’s hers!) he backs up to the far wall. “Father? Father! There’s someone here, help me!”

“Shaun, please, just talk to me. Open the door, it’ll be okay. I’ll never leave you again!” Not the best words she’s ever picked to say. Her son looks afraid. Of her? Vera had sworn to herself as she held that little baby in her arms that he’d never have cause to be truly afraid of her. It wouldn’t be like her childhood. Shaun would have parents that loved him.

“Father, she wants to take me!” His voice rises in pitch and squeaks with terror and Vera flinches and tries to shush him, she backs away from the glass to give him space. Stupid, so fucking stupid, tried to grab him close before he’d been ready-!

The door slides open and Shaun looks close to tears, scooting closer to it and the man that walks through the doors and, God, Vera’s only wanted to kill one person more than she wants this man dead. He looks disappointed at her boy, like he’s somehow displeased him and there’s something about him that sits so wrong. “Shaun.” He sounds disappointed and Vera feels her hackles rising, how dare he! “S9-23, Recall code: Cirrus.”

Shaun goes limp where he stands, and, of course. She should’ve fucking known that nothing would ever go right. Of course she should’ve expected a synth, she’d walked right into this trap. “Fascinating, but disappointing. The child’s responses were not at all what I had anticipated.”

Breathe. You’d came to the wrong conclusion before. Take into consideration the new evidence. Shown around the institute, but also shown off. Perhaps this ‘Father’ hadn’t wanted her to see it as a place of employment, but he’d wanted her to see it and be impressed? Yes, it did seem more like that, from his choice of words through the tour. Trying to herd her opinion of it in a certain way.

While the man spoke Vera watched him, stared at him and, oh. There it is. How could she have been upset with that boy, the synth, when he couldn’t see her as his mother when she’d looked at this man and hadn’t noticed his eyes? His nose? Despite the groomed white facial hair and the lines on his face, he still had her eyes and his father’s nose.

When he introduces himself as Father she smiles a bit and her heart breaks and she just wants to close her eyes and wake up in her bed with her husband and her baby asleep in the next room. A fool’s wish, but Vera’s always been a fool. “It wasn’t ten years, was it?” She questions, having to clear her throat once to get it out.

He smiles a bit and shakes his head. “No.” Shaun gestures back behind her, there’s a chair there beside a desk. Vera expects she looks rough and, well, she’s played the weak woman card before to her advantage. Time to play that up while she mentally regrouped. “It’s been sixty years.”

Sixty fucking years. Well, shit, she woke up two hundred and ten fucking years so, yeah, of course this was a thing that could happen. Right, play up the weak card. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and sinking her fingers into her hair. Think, goddamnit. There hadn’t been a situation she’d been in yet that she hadn’t been able to spin to her own advantage. Look at everything with the new information. He’d said the Institute was under his guidance. He wanted her to have a favorable opinion of it. He’d made a child synth of himself to gauge her opinion of him? If she could accept ten years, perhaps she could accept sixty?

Breathe in. Express grief. Draw on the pain that was existence and say what he wanted to hear. “I wasn’t there for any of it.” She breathed out, letting her voice shake with pretend grief when all she feels inside is rage. This place had stolen her baby and presented her with this grown man? “Did they love you? Did they cherish you like the perfect gift from God you were? Did you know me, know that I prayed every night for you from the day I found out I was pregnant?”

Shaun, not Shaun, she had no idea what to call him but it sure as shit wasn’t going to be Father, crossed the room to stand beside her. Vera can hear him hesitate a moment before his hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “They told me nothing of you or my Father. When I grew older I became curious and found the information myself.” He’s trying to sound clinical but frustration leaks out. And even that pisses Vera off, because her son should be better than to let such an honest tell be heard in his voice. Any child of hers should be a manipulator, just like she is.

“Let me look at you.” She sits up and reaches for his face and he lets her touch him. So easy to gain that much trust, like it wouldn’t be fucking simple to drive her thumbs into his eyes and gouge them out because how dare he look at her with those blue eyes-

Breathe.

“You’ve got my eyes.” Not the best way to start the conversation, but hey. “And your Dad’s nose.” She gently bopped the tip and Not-Shaun looks like he wants to be offended for a moment but can’t quite make himself be. He took himself too seriously, probably been in charge for enough time that he thought he was more important than he was. “I wasn’t there for your life.”

Not-Shaun gently grips her wrists as she holds his face. “No.” He sounds sad, though he’s not sure if it’s for her expressed pain or if it was his actual feelings on the subject.

“I should’ve been there.” She lets some of her anger leak out, bowing her head and leaning forward a bit. After a moment her head connects with his chest. He’s so trusting. “I should’ve seen you take your first steps, I should’ve been holding your hand. I was supposed to show you how to ride a bike, or dance, or anything you wanted to do. I was going to scare your first girlfriend shitless, make sure she knew what a treasure you were. I missed your entire life.”

The words hurt to say and she hoped they hurt to hear. After a moment of silence Not-Shaun lets go of her wrist and gently, awkwardly, lowers his arms to her shoulders and attempts to hug her. It’s quite possibly the worst hug she’s ever received. Still, it’s an effort. She can use it.

Vera pulls away a bit, rubs away the tears she’s managed to force out. “I’m sorry, this is all....” She gives a helpless smile and a wave of her hand, managing a shaky little laugh. “Tell me about everything.”

He does. In very great detail, spanning several hours as he walks with her through the Institute. She smiles in all the right places, gasps, expresses amazement and pride at his accomplishments. Not-Shaun is good at hiding his emotions, but there’s enough of a tell that she knows she’s doing good.

The Institute stole her baby to use as a... Benchmark, a blueprint, something, in the production of their Gen3 synths. Not-Shaun made a little joke, that they were a family together. Ha ha. As they pass through the halls Synths turn their heads and smile, eyes looking down to the ground rather than look at their illustrious Father. They greet her, call her ma’am. Vera wonders silently why Not-Shaun (she’s really going to have to come up with another name to use for him) hasn’t programmed them to call her something else. Grandmother, perhaps.

Perhaps he realizes that it’s a fool’s errand, or that it’s stupid that a sixty year old is calling a twenty-two year old ‘Mother’. He leads her up to a room that’s been prepared especially for her. Outside a tall, scarecrow thin Synth in a dark coat waits.

“Mother, this is X6-88. He’s one of our coursers, and I’ve had him assigned to you. While you’re in the Institute he’ll ensure your safety and tend to your needs.” X6 nodded seriously, eyes hidden behind his glasses.

It makes Vera wistfully wish for Deacon. God, he’d have a field day with this place. They could lie together, she’d have someone to lean on for support during this entire fiasco. “X6-88’s a bit of a mouthful, and I’m not the best with numbers. I hope you can have patience with me as I learn.” She smiles sweetly up at him and gives him a good once over. He’s the first black synth she’s seen, good to know that her son hadn’t grown up to be a racist like his grandfather in that aspect. Of course, since he equated his ‘Children’ to toasters he was a racist in a different way. 

“Of course, ma’am.” X6 said blandly before gesturing towards the door. “If you would put your hand upon the door, it will take a bio-metric scan of yourself. Only Father, yourself, and myself currently have access to your quarters.”

How sweet.They were trying to make her feel safe. Like she believed that for a second. “Thank you, darlings, that’s very sweet.” Vera stretched out her arm and lay it flat on the door, and after a moment it opened for her. The room inside was stark white and futuristic as the rest of the Institute. There was a bed, a terminal (Fantastic, she could use that to get the information Sturges had asked for) and her own dedicated bathroom. Fan-fucking-tastic, she’d be abusing their hot water as often as possible.

X6-88 stepped into the room and stood by the door. Not-Shaun, the Director (there was a name she could settle on) stepped in as well, looking back to X6-88. “They all call me Father.” He said musingly. “I would have them call you ‘Grandmother’, but perhaps that is a bit foolish. Would ‘Mother’ be acceptable?”

Inside she screams and screams and screams, fists beat at the inside of her skull. The screams cry out ‘not my son’ ‘not my children’ ‘lies’ ‘burn it to the ground’, but she’s had a lifetime of practice shoving down rage. Breathe in, breathe out. Observe. What does he want you to say? Judge posture- Wait, by the door. X6-88’s leaning forward just a bit, tipped a bit towards them. He’s invested in this conversation as well.

Shove a fake smile on your face, reach out and touch the Director’s shoulder. “I suppose I’m the Mother of all synths in a way. I made you and from you they all arose. I wouldn’t mind if they called me Mother.”

From the smile on the Director’s face he thinks he’s won something. Of course, that would be a way to tie her emotionally to this place. An entire Institute full of ‘Children’, programmed to love their Mother unconditionally. The idea of that much positive feedback does give her a thrill of joy (She’s always loved being the center of attention) but it isn’t enough to overcome how angry she is.

“One last question, Mother.” The director asks, and Vera gives him a little bemused smile as she slides off her minuteman duster. X6 moves a bit closer and holds out a hand for the garment. She passes it over and he folds it over his arm before returning to his position by the door. “The synth Shaun. Do you think that you could love him?”

Oh, that’s an entirely different horror show right there. Breathe. You’re in this too deep to break apart now. To give herself a moment to get her lie just right she reaches up and straightens the collar of his lab-coat, picks a bit of imagined lint from his vest. Breathe. “Made to look like you at ten, with all your memories? I don’t think I could stop myself from loving him, he’s you.”

His eyes are almost kind for a moment as he wraps one of his aged and spotted hands around hers. “I wouldn’t claim to know what you’re feeling, but if in any way the boy’s presence can help... I’ll have him brought back online shortly. You’ll have a chance to interact with him.”

Joy. Nothing said ‘family’ quite like emotional torture. “Sweetheart, do you get migraines? I can feel one coming on and, well, one thing the Commonwealth is lacking is medicine to help with those.” She’d never been glad to feel the telltale pain in the center of her head, but she’d take any change of conversation topic she could get.

The Director gives her a knowing look, his eyes almost sparkle. “So you’re who I have to blame for those.” He tries to tease gently, but he’s lived a lifetime on a pedestal. Teasing doesn’t come naturally for him. “X6-” Before he can issue the order the Synth is nodding and ducking out the door.

Vera smiles after him, pressing the heel of her hand into the middle of her forehead. “I’m so sorry, darling, but if I we could continue this continue this conversation later? It must be jet-lag or adrenaline wearing off, but I’d love nothing more than a shower and a nap.”

The Director steps back towards the door, nodding. “Of course, I apologize. You must be exhausted. Once you’ve had a chance to refresh yourself my office and room are both on the top floor of this tower. Please find me.”

“I always will.” Vera promised, glad that the forming migraine gives her an ironclad reason to tear up at those words. God, she’d tried so damn hard, did everything she could, came barreling after her baby with the force of a nuke and she’d still failed. She’d lost the last bit of her family.

Story of her goddamn life right there.

Once the Director leaves her alone she steps into the bathroom, kicking her boots off by the door and starting the shower so the room would have a chance to steam up. Vera peered into the drawers by the bed and found several outfits and lab coats in her size. Fantastic. She could cosplay a goddamn nerd. One drawer has a pair of pajamas, another has underclothes and thick socks without a hole in sight.

X6 returned before she started to strip, at least she saved off possible mortification there. “Mother.” He says in his deep and flat voice, sounding like he’s trying the word on for size. “Here is a bottle of painkillers for your medicine cabinet. If you would pass me your clothes once you have disrobed, I’ll take them to be repaired. Do you require food?”

Her stomach rolls at the mention of food and Vera shook her head. “No, but thank you, darling.” The pet name slipped out without her meaning to say it, making X6 tip his head almost questioningly at her. There’s a slight smile at her words, gone so quick she almost thinks she imagines it. “Though, do you have tea here? Some days, I swear I’d kill for a good cup of tea made sweet with honey.”

“I’ll bring you a cup.” X6 said, and Vera had a feeling that even if she asked for something ridiculous the Synth would make it happen.

This might be a good one to try and build rapport with. “Bring a cup for yourself, would you? If you like tea, that is. It’s best to have tea with someone else, and I don’t want to bother my boy to come down here just for a cup before I go to bed.”

“Of course, Mother.”

Vera smiled at him and stepped into the bathroom, stripping her clothes off before wrapping her underthings into her vault suit and passing the bundle out to X6. She hears the exterior doors woosh shut a moment later. Great. She’s as alone as she’s going to get.

Before stepping into the shower she pops two of the pills into her mouth, swallowing them with a mouthful of shower water. Vera managed to stay standing for a few moments, letting the water drum a beat into her skull before she slid down the wall and sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees.

All she’d wanted her whole goddamn life was a family that loved her. Papa’d been a lost cause since the moment she popped out with a second X chromosome, Mama’d always been a drunk. She’d been so goddamn close to winning and having a life with Nate and her brothers free from their parents, then they had to go and get themselves shot at a goddamn anti-war protest. Nate’d been good to her, she might’ve even loved him after a few years, and he got shot. Her last chance had been that perfect baby boy, her last goddamn chance at starting again and being better than she’d been taught, and this is what she got.

The best thing about crying in the shower was that it was easy to muffle your sobs with the sound of the water. She’d always bathed for comfort and even in the wasteland that was still her go-to way of getting all the shit in her head clear.

Eventually she leaves the shower and towel dried her hair, slipping into the pajamas before exiting into the bedroom. The lights have been turned down low and X6 sits at a small table with a goddamn tea service set out on it. He rose to his feet and poured her cup as she walked over. There’s even honey. Vera marvels at it, she hasn’t seen a single beehive in the wastelands.

“One of our farms on the surface has been testing out modified bees from our labs.” X6 explained as she picked up the little jar and sniffed it. It smelled like honey and a bit like mutfruit. “Doctor Holdren has expressed a desire to meet you. He’s head of the bio-science labs.”

Vera sat and stirred in a spoonful of honey into her tea and isn’t surprised for a moment when X6 mirrors her actions, but is amused when he adds another spoonful after taking a sip. The tea has a good aroma, not quite what it should be, but it’s close enough. They sit in silence and Vera spends a good few minutes slowly sipping and breathing in the scent of her tea.

“You’ll help me, right?” Vera asked softly, sitting her cup down and bowing her head over it. “This is all a lot to take in. So many names, and people, and I have no idea who to meet first. If I meet this Holdren first, would another head take it as a snub?”

“It would be wise to take that into account.” X6 agreed, sitting his cup down as well. “Bio-science is not the most respected division.” Yeah, of course, why would you not respect the people who grew your food? Fucking nerds. “Greeting Doctor Ayo first would be.... Prudent. He is the head of Synth Retention.”

Greet the Synth’s boss first, right. Well, she’d learn quick if X6 would be on her side or his boss’s.

“Engineer Fillmore would be a good second choice. Doctor Li is not overly interested in interacting with people so she would not take offense, and Doctor Holdren is also not the type to take offense.”

Vera nodded at his assessment and went back to her tea. X6 again mirrored her, sipping when she sipped and putting the cup aside in time with her. Possible reasons? Unsure with etiquette or disliked tea but wanted to make a favorable impression. Her cup was almost finished when she realized her face was staring to go numb. God bless oxy, somehow the nerds must be making it. She’d assumed the pills were high doses of non-opioids, but Vera was not about to turn down oxy.

“Do synths sleep?” Shit, voice slurring a bit there. She’d have to send him away before that got too out of control. “Do you dream?”

X6 rose from his side of the table and grasped her upper arm, gently assisting her to her feet. Oh, his tea was gone. He’d been unsure to etiquette then. “I require sleep but do not dream. Third generation Synths are largely synthetic organics. You’ll understand when you see the labs.”

Then he’s helping her into bed like she’s some feeble old woman, but it’s nice to lie to herself and say that he truly cares and hasn’t been ordered and programmed to act like he does. “You can stay if you want.” Vera offered as he pulled the covers up to her chin.

The lights go out fully, but the door doesn’t open back up. Vera can distantly hear X6 pouring himself another cup of tea and sitting down. He wanted to stay then, or he’d taken her offer as an order. So much to do in the next few days, so much to learn. But for now all there was to do was enjoy the slight high from the oxy and sleep.

X6 lets her sleep until she wakes up naturally, which is pretty kind of him. When Vera wakes up it isn’t delicate or easy: she wakes with a loud snort and rolls out of bed, tangled in sheets too soft and clean. Laying in a lump on the floor her mind finally catches up with the events of yesterday. Ah, fuck. Fuck this place, fuck all of this-

Footsteps move to the foot of the bed, and Vera slowly looks out of her blanket ball at the owner of said feet. X6 blandly stares down at her. “Do you require assistance?”

She bit back her first reply, which would be to tell him to go fuck himself. That wouldn’t do, she was trying to build a brand down here. “I don’t suppose I can bribe you into forgetting this indignity?” She asked, sitting up and slowly untangling herself from her blankets.

“Forgetting what?” X6 asked, and there was that tiny little blink and you miss it smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother.”

Yeah, still was not digging that honorific. Great. “Perfect. Thank you.” She tossed the blankets back onto the bed and moved to one of the wardrobes, looking through her clothing choices. Lab coats mostly and the top contender looked to be a really hideous sweater vest. “I don’t suppose they make those gorgeous black leather coats in my size, do they?” She asked with a nod to X6’s duster.

The Synth looked down at himself and tipped his head slightly. “I am certain that I could find one that would work.”

Vera has to stand on her tiptoes to give him an affectionate peck on the cheek, and the courser goes completely still when she does. “Thank you, dear. We can be a little matching pair.”

After he silently leaves in search of a coat Vera moves into the bathroom, changing into the drab sweater vest and pressed pants. She washes her face and brushes her teeth before searching through the myriad of drawers in front of the mirror. She finds an electric razor in one and tosses it onto the vanity, a trim would do her good. In another drawer Vera pulls out a bag and unzips it only to find several tubes and compacts. There’s a little note there, ‘Welcome home!’ and a few female names.

Whelp. Fuck it. People here wanted to see her dolled up? They were going to get dolled up. Vera plugged in the razor and shaved the sides of her hair short, leaving the top longer. She wet the longer mop and trimmed it using a small comb and scissors found in yet another drawer. When done she swept it back along the top of her head and surveyed it. Back in the day she’d seen guys with this style, and in the wasteland one had to make due.

After surveying the cosmetics that had been dropped off by some gaggle of ladies she came up with a war plan. Green powder from a little four color pan would help cover up the scarring from that goddamn deathclaw, then there was the foundation. A bit too light now, but it would’ve been a good match before she gallivanted over the whole goddamn commonwealth. The colors were slightly off over the board, but they all would’ve been a good match for what she’d been wearing the day the bombs dropped. Right down to that tube of gorgeous red lipstick.

She looks at herself in the mirror: Eyes lined with black and smoked out with browns and grays, colors corrected then enhanced, lips bold and red and smirking. There she was, the pre-war dream. Vera felt put together and confidant as she strode out of the bathroom.

X6 was waiting, black coat in hand. One eyebrow cranked up above his sunglasses. “You look... Vintage.”

“You need to learn how to compliment a lady properly, dear.” She took the coat and slipped it over her shoulders, leaving it unzipped. “You said Dr. Ayo would be our first step, right?”

“On the meet and greet, yes.” X6 walked towards the door and waited for her outside. “The first stop will be medical.”

Ugh. Nerd doctors. “To ensure I’m not going to poison anyone with my filthy surface germs, right?”

“Correct.”

The doctor isn’t bad, he’s got the sort of attitude she’d expect from a man raised in a cave below ground. The whole distrust of the surface thing is reminiscent of vault dwellers. She’s tested and given some rad-x and a few shots to help with a vitamin deficiency she wasn’t aware she had. 

“X6, would you step out for a moment? I’d like to ask the doctor about a personal issue.” She asked in a sweet and soft manner, ensuring that she was alone in the clinic. “I apologize, but how does the future deal with birth control?”

Danse had a pretty bomb dick, she wouldn’t mind hopping on it again, but there was zero need to become pregnant anytime soon. “Down here there are hormone shots, though you may be able to find similar treatment in a vault with their population control issues.” Dr. Volkert said, and it was the mark of a good doctor that he didn’t so much as blink at the question. “I’ll have to have a dose made up, so if you come back in the next day or so I can meet with you again, go over the side effects, and administer it.”

“Fantastic. One day, maybe.” There was a wistfulness in her voice that wasn’t fake, there was a large part of her that wanted to be pregnant and have another child so she could make a blood family. That part of her was usually satisfied by pulling her friends close, making them into a family tailor made for her. “But right now, everything’s so....”

“I understand. Your checkup is complete, feel free to mingle with the population since you’re not contagious.” Fantastic. She gave the doctor a wave goodbye and walked out to meet X6.

Justin Ayo was a self absorbed dick with an ego problem. Vera also wasn’t certain if he himself was a racist or a fetishist, but about 90 percent of the coursers she saw in the Institute were not white and Ayo was having a lot of fun ordering them around. Dick.

The chief engineer, a woman so bland Vera doesn’t care to remember her name, doesn’t make much of an impression. Sort of a ‘eh she’s a person’ kind of thing. Especially compared to Ingram (who Vera adored, goddamn that tough old broad was amazing) whats her face just kind of faded into the background.

Dr. Li was amusing, crabby and short worded. She fixed the pip-boy with a chip and let her go without much talk. Apparently her division was the one that had worked on the child synth, which sat about as well with the division as it had with her. They were creeped out by it, but at the same time they wanted to treat it like a real boy. The emotional labor there was hard on everyone.

Holdren was on her from the moment she walked into Bio-science. “How was the honey?” He asked eagerly, eyes bright. “Since you existed pre-war, you’ll be able to give us a unique opportunity to compare.”

“I mean, texture wise it’s the same as before, bees are doing their job. The taste is slightly off, but I assume that’s because it’s from mutfruit blossoms instead of anything I had before. No adverse effects.” Beside her X6 gives a small nod in agreement. Vera smiled and leaned a bit closer to Holdren, using a faux-whisper. “If you have anything else you need taste tested, I’m your girl.”

The scientist laughed and grabbed her by the shoulder, steering her through the labs. Usually that would annoy her, but this guy was doing it because he was excited to show things off and not because he was controlling. “We’ve been able to successfully synthathise quite a few variations of pre-war flora.”

“That’s wonderful. Shame that we didn’t have any seed banks on this continent, that would’ve been a boon. Have you started testing growth up top?” Yeah, the whole ‘synth creation’ thing wasn’t her bag, but the ability to have more food options? Vera was all interested in that.

“We’ve got Warwick farms on the surface testing seeds.”

“Just the one farm? Mmm, not allowing yourself a good sample size. If you can show me your test records down here to ensure that they’re safe to eat, I can get seeds out to various friendly settlements. There’s the greenhouse that’s staffed by robots, that’d give you a good set of samples without human interference, and Vault 81 could probably be persuaded as well...”

At that idea he has her in front of a terminal, reading reports and nutritional data and all manner of things. Everything looks above board, but she insists on trying everything he wants to send up top personally because she assumes that they won’t risk her.

This is the kind of thing that humanity should be working for, making things better, improving what they had. It was easy to get swept up with this idea and forget that this place had stolen her child and was currently replacing people with synths. Yeah, food wasn’t a good enough reason to let them get away with the shit they were pulling.

It takes a bit to get away from Holdren, the man’s like a human golden retriever. She promises to be back before she returns topside to get seeds for testing and leaves bio-science. “So, is he always like that, or...?”

“He’s very passionate about his work.” X6 said, but he looked a bit strained. Someone wasn’t a people person.

Vera started walking in a random direction, letting X6 fall in step beside her. “So, synth lesson. Do you need to eat or do you do it to keep up appearances?”

“Gen3 synths are required to eat. Is this a lead up to you needing lunch?” He gives her his little lip twitch version of a smile and leads her to a cafeteria. They stand behind a man harassing the poor gen2 server, whining about the supplement that he wanted.

Vera didn’t like listening to this whining bullshit before the war, and she didn’t like listening to it now. “So are you deaf or just a child?” She asks loudly, making the man turn around. “It doesn’t matter how many times you ask him for the supplement, if he’s out he’s out. Whining about the problem won’t magically fix it, and nobody wants to hear you.”

The man puffed up his chest, but X6 leans over her shoulder. “Dr. Brendan.” He said blandly, and wasn’t it funny how just a small action and a word could make a man go so white. “This is Vera Braun, the Mother of the Director.” Vera just smiled and wiggled her fingers in a wave.

Dr. Brendan just gave up and left the cafeteria. Apparently he realized there was zero way to salvage that interaction and force quit the program. Vera snorted and stepped up to the counter, smiling at the Synth behind it. But looking at him made her freeze, made something in her brain throw up huge error messages. She’d fought synths up top, but most had been missing their faces. This one is pristine, cold and lifeless, and looks like a whole version of Nick Valentine.

Right. Don’t freeze. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that, poor fellow.” Vera clucked lightly, shaking her head. “Doing the best you can, aren’t you? We’ll have whatever you recommend.”

The synth handed over two trays with some sort of nutrient paste. “Supplement 77.” It said, then very slowly and obviously winked. It’d been the supplement that the mouthy doctor had asked for and been told wasn’t in production anymore. Fucking hilarious.

“Cheeky.” Vera beamed as she took the trays. “Thank you.”

X6’s presence was the likely cause of their uninterrupted lunch, nerds looked like they wanted to come over and talk until they saw him methodically shoving the ‘food’ into his mouth. It wasn’t bad, miles better than any MRE’s she’d eaten, but Vera’d always preferred real food to processed nutrition junk.

Allowing herself to be observed was a good way to observe in turn, to see people’s opinions and reactions. Most humans were curious, but the synths were what surprised her. Other than Nick and that brief encounter with Glory at the railroad HQ she hadn’t dealt with them. X6 was what she expected them to be like, essentially an organic robot. Whenever she catches one staring and smiles at them they look shocked. A few manage to say shy little greetings as they pass in the hallways after lunch and they look so shocked when she answers. One man pushing a broom looks near tears when she thanks him for keeping the place so spotless.

They’re starved for human affection and attention. It doesn’t matter that they were made and it doesn’t matter that the people that made them refused to admit their humanity, they still wanted and needed interaction just like every other person. If the institute hadn’t kidnapped her son, if they hadn’t replaced people, if they hadn’t made the mutants, then how they treated Synths alone would be reason enough to blow everything up. Created by man through God, they couldn’t be denied His love, they had to have souls.

“Suppose I should head up to my boy.” Vera sighed and looked up at X6. “How’s my face? Still ‘vintage’?”

“Like Ms. Keyes herself.” The Courser replied in his calm monotone.

Vera squeezed his shoulder, partially to try and build rapport and partially to test her hypothesis. Even the elite courser, programmed by Ayo to be superior (And how he’d gone on and on and on about that) leaned into her touch whether he realized it or not. “See, now, that’s a much better way of phrasing it. Vintage makes me feel old.”

They parted ways at the foot of the housing tower where the Director’s office was. She scaled the ramps, making sure to greet every Synth that stared at her with wide eyes. “Shaun?” She called out before stepping up to the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting? X6 and I did our rounds and I met the heads of staff.”

The Director sat at his desk, standing after she walks in. “You’re not interrupting.” He assured her, pausing a moment to take her in. He smiles a big, honest smile at her appearance. “You seem to be settling in well.”

And that, kids, was why you made the time to make that extra effort. Be seen how you want to be seen at all times. “What can I say, it’s easy to fall into place with creature comforts.” She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. It took him a moment to reciprocate, but his arms hesitantly came to embrace her. “Bio-science is lovely, I think whatever spare time I have is going to be spent there testing food for Holdren.”

“Well, I suppose you could fall in with a worse group. Holdren is very thorough with the testing phase for any genetically modified crop.” Probably tested on Synths. Assholes. “Ah, the boy is ready. Shaun?”

Shit.

The synth child drags his feet, looking pouty and not at all into the situation as he climbs the stairs. He looks rebelliously at the Director (Was that what her boy had been like at ten, glaring about at the people who took him?) before looking to Vera. “Father said you’re my mom.”

The chant of ‘I’m not, I’m not, I’m not’ starts anew in her head, she hides it with a smile and leans down. “C’mere, brat, take a good look at me.”

He’s curious despite his reluctance and does cross over to her. Little hands touch her face, her own eyes stare back at her. They dart back and forth over her face, she can see the cogs and wheels turning in his head as he took the information in. And then? All the discomfort is hidden and his face splits into a grin as he enthusiastically throws his arms around her neck.

Vera holds him automatically, one hand coming up to thread in his pale hair and pull his head close to her, the other hand pats his back. “Hey there, baby. Hey there. I’m here.” God, this is hard. This is harder than anything she’s ever done, because she wants it so badly to be real.

“I always wondered about you.” He whispered into her ear, hands fisting in the leather courser duster like he never wants to let her go and God, this hurts so bad. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Hey, now. Lemmie promise you something, okay?” He pulled away a bit to look her in the face. “Serious talk. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t come for you. No one will ever keep me from you. I’ll always be there.”

They smile at each other before Shaun again buries his face in her neck. This was the reunion she wanted, and it sucks so fucking bad that she’s faking it to make the Director pleased. He is, she sees the look on his face. There’s a slight chance that he’s happy to see his mother happy, or that he’s vicariously experiencing the reunion he never got through the child, but Vera’s a cynic and would put money that he’s happy to have given her another reason to be emotionally attached to the Institute.

“Mother, I was wondering if you would be willing to assist with a mission above ground.” There it was, the proper job offer right after giving her something nice. “A rogue synth has taken over a gang of raiders at Libertalia.”

Shaun frowns and hugs her neck again. “You’re going already?” He asks and, goddamn, that hits her in the heart. Vera presses a kiss to his forehead and holds him tight.

“Hey, what did I just say? Nothing will keep me from you. I’ll always be back. I just gotta go upstairs sometimes and make it safer.” Impulsively she stood and scooped him up onto her hip. “I’ll bring you something. What do you want?”

Normal kids should want fun things, like toys or something to eat, or books or something. Did fake kids normally ask for telephones to take apart for scrap? Who knew.

She lead the kid up to her room and let him get all scanned in with the biometric lock. “You can come in here anytime, okay?” She told him, stroking the side of his face. “If you want, we can get your stuff moved up here.”

Shaun sits on her bed and bounces a bit on it. “You’re taking X6 too.” He grumbled, looking like the petulant child that he’d been built to be. “Ugh, who am I supposed to talk to?”

“Dr Li seemed friendly.” Vera said blandly and Shaun made a face.

“She’s old.” He grumbled, throwing himself backwards over the bed. His feet kicked in the air and somehow the more petulant he acted the more it endeared him to her. They’d done a good job making him, even if they hadn’t known her he seemed tailor made to her. (Had her baby grown up like this? As a child had he still been hers, waiting for rescue while she’d been on ice? When had he turned into what he is now?)

Vera impulsively scooped him up off the bed, spinning him around once. He squirmed in her arms and laughed when she tossed him back down onto the bed and tickled his sides. “I’ll bring you back your phone to tear apart, and if I can find any comics I’ll grab them too. And thennnn I’ll tell you anything you want to know about the surface, okay?”

“Okay.” His expressions schooled themselves into neutrality, the excitement and joy he’d been feeling covered up by a mask. Was this what people saw when they looked at her, that shift when she pretended to be what they wanted? “I love you, mom.”

“Do you? You just met me. It’s okay if you don’t yet. I promised myself when you were born I’d never lie to you, so you don’t have to lie to me either.” She stroked his hair gently, knowing she was shooting herself in the foot. Bearing her hand of cards to some fake boy?

Shaun looks reserved, brows furrowing as he gets lost in his mind. “You’re nice. You give me hugs and you don’t talk down to me like I’m stupid. I’m ten.” He scowled, clearly thinking that ten was a venerable age to be (How long had he been out of their creation vats?). “I’m not a baby.” No, he never would be again. Never be her baby, the one she’d sobbed over and loved so fucking much- “Do you love me?”

And there was the ten thousand cap question. “Of course I love you.” And, fuck her, it wasn’t a lie. The synth had done what he’d been created to do, worming into that big empty void into her heart without fuss. “Burn down the whole damn world for you.”

He frowns a bit, standing and hugging her around her middle. “Don’t do that.” He scolded. “Unless there’s nothing good up there?”

Nick Valentine, and Preston Garvey, Deacon, Glory, Piper and Nat, Ronnie, Vadim, Sturges, Jun, Danse- “All right, all right. The world should thank you for convincing me to spare them.” She kissed the top of her head and damned herself for being so stupid to fall into a fucking obvious trap. “I’ll be back soon.”

“G’bye.” He looks so small as she leaves the room, letting the door swoosh shut behind her.

Breathe. “X6? Let’s grab some gear and get out.”

That’s what they do. They get their gear and beam out of the Institute, murder their way through a group of raiders, and Vera smiles charmingly at the raider leader in parlay as she speaks his reset code. 

Because in the end, this is what she is. She’s surrounded herself with people who’s virtues she admires while she can’t express them herself. She’s not kind like Nick, principled like Danse, good like Preston, honest like Piper.

She’s a liar and a cheat and has never had a problem with fucking someone else over if it means she comes out on top.

After the fight with Gabriel’s men she checks her rifle while X6 secures the package. She can feel him watching her. “Penny for your thoughts, X6?”

“I’m impressed. You’re not what I was expecting.” He’s a little less monotone up here, he looks more reserved than he does robotic. “Handled yourself well.”

“C’mon, honey. You’re not stupid. You know what I’m about.” Slipping, already fucking up the brand she’s trying to build with the Institute. Shit, she’s tired. “Wouldn’t have survived up here if I couldn’t handle myself.”

X6 just finishes preparing Gabriel for transport. “I was surprised when you eliminated Kellogg.” He admitted. “But seeing you in action... Well. It’s one thing to hear rumors and another to witness it.”

Yeah, she’d been a bit over zealous there. It’d felt good to let loose, to make people hurt. Calmed her down a bit. “You’re no slouch yourself, X6.” She crinkled her nose a bit. Ugh, he needed a goddamn name. Shame the Synth they were bringing in had taken Gabriel, that kind of fit him. 

X6 accepted her compliment with a brief nod of his head. She steps close to his side and looks up at him and, huh, from this close she can see a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Cute. “I was made for this.” Someone else might’ve made the words sound overconfident, but X6 is just stating a fact. “Did you pick up enough junk for Shaun?”

Vera tested the weight of her pack and sheepishly grinned. “Kid wants shit to take apart, he gets shit to take apart. X6?” Well, here was a chance to try for some info. Granted, she didn’t know if X6 was trustworthy or if he was a plant from Ayo. But, hey, harmless question. “Does he know he’s a Synth?”

He thinks for a moment, then actually bites his lip. Deciding what information to share with her? “His programming is designed to mimic Father at ten.” He finally says, choosing his words with care. “But Father was very intelligent and inquisitive at ten.”

Providing information and leaving her to draw her own conclusions instead of giving a straight answer. Either he was being observed himself, or he didn’t know for sure. Ugh. Couldn’t one thing in this goddamn adventure be easy? Vera grumbled as she wrapped her arms around one of X6’s.

The courser stiffened. “You’re aware that you don’t have to be touching me to relay, and that you have a chip of your own?”

“Yeah.” She leaned her head against his bicep and held on. “You don’t want me touching you?”

“You may.”

Later that night, after X6 leaves to go sleep wherever he does and when Shaun is passed out on her bed, she popped Sturges’ tape into the computer in her room before heading out into the institute. It’s less populated at night, generally only the cleaning crew is out. Other than staring at her they don’t interact.

No one’s there to stop her from going to Madison Li’s office and sitting at her terminal. It’s locked, but Vera soon found out that their ciphers had been based off of the old CIT ones, and she’d fucked around with those back in the day. Once upon a time, Genny’d had dreams of being a doctor and she’d gotten it into her head to help him sneak in. That hasn’t gone well, and she and Genny both had faced Papa’s wrath. Still, made her more careful.

When the door to the office opens Vera assumes it’s Li and that she’s fucked, but the cleaning Synth looks at her with big wide eyes. Vera takes a gamble and holds one silent finger up to her lips. The Synth nods and backs out of the room.

Huh.

Anyway.

Back to snooping.

What she was interested here is exactly who the fake Shaun was reporting to. From the reports she found, just ‘Father’. ‘Father’ had insisted on full control, erasing and resetting his recall code from the databanks so he had sole control of it. Great, ‘cause the last thing she wanted was for Ayo to start giving it orders. Inviting it into her room before she could confirm it wasn’t going to kill her in her sleep, stupid, stupid girl.

She’s working through another report when the door opens to reveal that same Synth. Instead of going to work cleaning, however, he stops with his back against the door and just stares at her. His mouth opens once or twice, like he’s trying to speak but no works come out. Well, that’s a pretty good warning. She logs off the computer and locks it before moving to the room’s darkest corner. The Synth gives her a look like ‘Are you shitting me? That’s your hiding spot?’ and she shrugged helplessly at him.

Dr. Li strode into her office and dismissed the Synth briskly but not unkindly. She sat down at her terminal and unlocked it before pausing and looking up. Vera waved at her from her corner and the doctor jumped. “What are you doing?” She snapped, one hand coming up to rest over her heart.

“Looming eerily in a corner to gain a psychological advantage?” Vera pushed off the wall and moved to the desk. “I’ve learned that people answer questions better if they’re afraid. My next step would be to haul out my stabbin’ knife.”

Li narrowed her eyes and looked up up and down before leaning back in her chair. “What do you want?” 

“A lot of things. From you specifically? Information on that synth you made to fool me into thinking I still had a little boy.” Li winces, good.

The conversation is a good measure of character, she makes sure to ask Li questions that she’s already gotten the answer to from her terminal. Li’s truthful if brisk, and she doesn’t make the effort to phrase her answers in a kind way. Just simple statements of facts.

Vera leaves the room slowly, like that’d been her whole plan all along. Outside the room she sighed, and looked to her right to find that same Synth mopping one foot of floor repeatedly. “Hey.” He looks up and she walks closer. He’s cute, big brown eyes and dark hair, skin tone that would’ve screamed mixed race pre war. Well, that didn’t matter too much now, and thank God. “Thanks for the heads up. What’s your name?”

He points to his throat and shook his head, then hesitantly held his hands out for hers. She gives him her hand and he traces numbers into her palm. E7-05. “Nice to meet you, E7.” Just her saying his number made him beam. “Are you mute?”

Another head shake, and E7 looked around quickly. Not seeing anyone besides her he pulled down the front of his high collared shirt. Those were- Rope marks. Vera took in a sharp angry inhale and couldn’t stop the look on her face from going dark with rage. He let his collar cover the marks again and gave her a helpless little smile.

“Who did this.” She asked softly, voice shaking. Hurting someone who couldn’t fight back, she’d find whatever weak son of a bitch thought they could do this-

E7 spotted someone behind her and went back to mopping and Vera tried to school her face back into neutrality. It’s a courser that swoops in, because of course it is. “E7-05, are you bothering Mother?” He asks accusingly, and E7 gripped his mop and shook his head while staring up at the courser. He was a big fucker, Vera barely came up to his chest.

“Not at all, darling.” Vera wrapped her arms around one of this new courser’s, turning him around and walking away from E7. “You’ll come to find out I talk to everyone. What’s your name?”

“...J8-42.”The Synth sounded confused as Vera dragged him as far away from poor E7 as she could. “You’re touching me.”

“I am. I’m very touchy feely. Do you want me to stop?” J8’s unreasonably tall, she comes up to mid-chest height and is hugging his forearm. His skin’s not quite as dark as X6’s, but his hair’s a similar color and cropped short in much the same way.

He also looks pretty damn flustered, his mask isn’t nearly as good as X6’s. “I- Whatever you want, Mother.”

She lets him go once they’re far enough away. “Now, which way is the cafeteria again...?” She asks, and the Courser takes the hint that she wants him to lead her there. There’s a few night owls out, but she’s not bothered when she requisitions a cup of coffee. Vera promptly hands the first cup to the courser, who looks fuckin’ mystified at her, and gets another cup for herself. She’s reasonably sure the synth working is the same Gen2 from earlier and he gives her no trouble. “Do you like coffee, J8? I hadn’t asked, I assume everyone does.”

“I have yet to try it.” J8 said and he sounded shy. That was adorable. Shy little murder dog. He sat with her and sipped the coffee, making a little pleased sigh.

“You can add sugar or cream to change the taste.” Vera said as she doctored her own cup up. J8 added some sugar but no cream, just like X6 he liked his drink sweet. “So. You know E7-05 back there?”

“I am familiar with him.” J8 sipped his coffee slowly, choosing his words very carefully. “Was his behavior unsatisfactory?”

No doubt he’d drag him right back to Ayo for a wipe if she said yes. “No, he was as helpful as he could be with no voice, poor thing. Do you know what monster did that to his neck?” J8’s face goes especially blank, but there’s a bit of anger viable in his eyes. Huh. That bore further investigation later. “I’d like to... Emphatically remind whomever thought that they should damage Institute property in that manner that, from what I understand, our resources aren’t limitless.”

“I am unaware of who requisitioned E7-05 last. I will find that information for you.”

“Thank you, darling.” She finished her coffee and stretched her arms up above her head. Good, some caffeine and a quick nap would have her ready for a full day later without wasting valuable time with something like a full night’s rest.

Vera doesn’t leave until J8 is done with his coffee in case anyone tries to give him shit, then heads up to her room. Shaun’s still asleep on her bed and she slowly settles in next to him. She could make do with a chair for the night, but this would work. She wakes him up crawling into bed, but once she’s settled in he flops over onto her chest and snuggles back down and, oh, it’s a stab straight to her heart when he sighs and goes back to sleep. Her arms awkwardly encircled him and she held on tight.

She was so fucked.

X6 brings up breakfast around seven, two mugs of tea and juice for Shaun, with nutrient packs for everyone. “What’s food like on the surface?” Shaun asks as he sips his juice. Apparently nutrient packs don’t have much allure for a ten year old.

“Little bit of everything. Still some pre-war food left though it’s irradiated, but everything is. Mama made some damn good fried chicken one night, and Tom kept trying to start up taco Tuesdays...” Tinker Tom’s Taco Tuesdays had a great sound to it, but Tom could only be trusted to cook under heavy supervision. Carrington had warned her about the shot he tried to give newcomers: battery acid, Christ. “There’s some coffee plants in hydroponics in vault 111, but no tea.”

“Food down here is boring.” Shaun grumbled, prodding the packet dourly. “Maybe when I grow up I’ll go into bio-sciences, and I’ll make it more interesting.”

He’d never grow up, from what she read. How fucking cruel was that? Creating something that couldn’t grow. She didn’t understand the how and they why of it, if he was organic his body would eventually reach the point where it couldn’t produce enough new cells to replace the ones that died off. Ugh, she’d need to look into that. “You can be anything you want, sweetheart. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll tear into them for you.” Fuck it, if they didn’t want a kid synth dicking about in their labs, they shouldn’t have fucking made him.

Shaun grins up at her and leaned against her side. “What’re you gonna do today?”

“What’s on the dossier, X6?” She asked. Apparently Dr. Ayo wanted to speak with her about a surface matter. Vera slid into the bathroom and fixed her face before going to see what Ayo’s issue was.

That issue was Nick Valentine.

“Absolutely not.” Vera leaned against a console and rolled her eyes at Ayo. “I’m not going to recover Nick for you.”

Not the answer Ayo wanted at all. Mouthy little fucker. “The prototype has been in the commonwealth unsupervised for over a hundred years. That it exists at all, let alone functioning, is worth study.”

Vera pushed out from the console and started to tap out on her fingers reasons why she wasn’t going to drag Nicky in here for this fucker to take apart. “One: Nick Valentine is the only Synth not shot on sight by the Diamond City Guards, while anyone else you send in there that isn’t a very good copy dies. Two: Valentine is the only open Synth who’s making any positive press about the Institute simply by existing as a Synth who isn’t an asshole. Three: He’s an old prototype of a model that has been discontinued. Bringing him in for study is a flagrant waste of resources.” Ooh, and he is starting to turn some really fun colors. “Do I need another reason?”

“I’ll send a courser out on it, then.” Ayo said snidely.

Vera shrugged. “I’ll go over your head, then. Come on, let’s argue our points with Father and see who’s line is more logical.” She grabbed him by the forearm and started to drag. He put up a resistance, but Vera’s worn thin and hard by her time up top. He’s a soft nerd. She drags him like a dog on a leash.

“Unhand me! X6-88, restrain her!” The director called, but X6 didn’t make a move.

“I apologize, Director Ayo.” He didn’t look very sorry. “We are not permitted to interfere with Mother’s actions.”

“Thank you, darling.” Vera coos with a savage amount of politeness as she marches out of the SRB and right up to the Director’s quarters.

He doesn’t look happy to be dealing with this bullshit, but too goddamn bad. Ayo tries his arguments and Vera adds in hers, with a fourth point. “If he’s been up top for over a hundred years and Doctor Ayo has only just now made a move to recover him, why?” She looked over at Ayo, her eyes wide. “It couldn’t be a power play against the Director’s mother, fresh from the surface and who has an attachment to the unit. That would be very unwise.”

The Director looks back and forth between them and looks for all the world like an exhausted father dealing with two bickering children. “Justin, she’s right. All gen2 study has been stopped. There’s nothing to learn from the prototype. It’s personality that you touted worth of study was copied into it from an old CIT brain scan.”

“Of course you’d side with her.” Ayo spat, puffing himself up like a cat and stalking out. The Director sighed and rubbed his temples.

That fucker was going to be trouble. “He’s going to come for me again.” Vera sighed, sitting in a chair in front of the Director’s desk. “He’ll get me through X6, or Shaun.”

The Director stilled and looked over at her with a look of possessive rage in his eyes. And, for a moment, Jesus on the cross. He’s her father, looming over her with that rage in his eyes. He thinks he owns her. “No one in the Institute will harm you, Mother. Ever.” He promised, voice a harsh and severe tone. He wants to protect her, but still. He wants to own her. “I’ll update all of the unit’s programming so they know to protect you. My orders supersede all others.”

“Thank you.” It wouldn’t protect her from someone if they really wanted to harm her, but seeing that look in his eyes was enough. He’d fight for her. “Really. You don’t know what it was like, waking up into this hellhole. I knew the real Nick, before the bomb. The synth Nick has been such a comfort to me.”

That night she sneaks down into Bio-science, finds the old FEV lab. She finds the cure and reads the terminals and screams and screams and screams where no one can hear her. Science has never been done for the betterment of humanity.

She spends the next day moving furniture and the few possessions that Shaun has up into her room, getting everything arraigned. Together they set up a little work table for him and he pulls apart the junk she brought from the surface. After making sure that her guns are unloaded Vera pulls the boy onto her lap and shows him how to dissemble her weapons.

“This is great, Mom. Thanks.” Shaun looked up at her and smiled, so bright and beautiful. “I like getting to spend time with you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty great yourself.” Vera kissed the top of his head.

That night she’s stopped by J8 while she walks out her insomnia. He’s found out who’d taken out their aggression on poor E7. One nighttime visit, some sweet smiles from her and very aggressive glares from J8, and the scientist has been informed that his actions wouldn’t be permitted in the future.

“And if E7 goes missing? Well.” Vera raised her brows as high as they could go, spreading her hands out. J8 leaned over almost double to lean over her shoulder. “Well. I’m sure you can understand how that would just break my heart.”

“Mother’s well being is a primary concern.” J8 said flatly.

They leave the doctor alone and walk the Institute together until Vera finally feels tired enough to go back up to the room where Shaun’s asleep. “Bring me coffee tomorrow morning? Requisition yourself a cup as well.”

If X6 is surprised when J8 shows up with two cups of coffee the next morning he doesn’t show it, and Vera drinks both her tea and her coffee. The two coursers watch each other like stray cats, wary of a stranger in their turf. Still, they don’t argue or question her, so. Mission accomplished.

“What’s the plan for today?” She asks X6 and the courser just tips his head. Apparently there’s nothing on her dossier. Wonderful. She can work on a few of her pet projects, get herself ready to leave and go back home. “Wonderful. I’ll stay in here and just... Rest a bit. Feel kinda stretched out. If you need a nap or anything, you’re welcome to stay as well.”

Neither Synth takes her up on the offer, though J8 pauses before leaving the room. “If you would like, I could locate E7-05 later. He is able to speak.”

“That sounds lovely, dear.” Vera agreed. “Around the time when I’ve been taking walks?”

So the day’s spent in her room, messing around on her terminal while Shaun tinkers at his little workbench. He’s got clever hands. Her project is a bit less physical, though it’s being a pain in the ass. Synth Retention wasn’t a smart place for her to go anytime soon, so she was trying to remotely crack Ayo’s terminal to see if she could pull up any dirt.

“Whatcha doin?” Shaun asks, and he moved pretty fucking quietly for a ten year old. Vera scooted a bit back from the terminal and let him climb up on her lap.

Even if he did report to the Director, he’d understand this. “Trying to remotely crack Ayo’s terminal. He’s a terrible man, and I don’t trust him. He might hurt X6, or program a Synth to come hurt you.”

Shaun stared at her screen, eyes wide. “How does it work?” He whispered, and she spent the better part of an hour explaining everything.

He was so smart and quick to learn. Probably because he was a synth, but that sad and weak part of herself cooed and crooned proudly in her head over his prowess like he was actually hers. “Sometimes it’s best not to trust anyone until you can prove to yourself that they won’t hurt you.”

“Anyone.” The boy frowned and looked up at her, his brows all furrowed like an old man. (Like her real boy, that ancient and frail old man.) “But I can trust you.”

“Form your own opinions, baby.” Shaun continued to frown, likely confused that she wasn’t saying that he should trust her. “Observe how people act, draw your own conclusions. Never just accept what you’re told. Find information. Be sneaky.” Vera ticked his sides and drew giggles from him.

“Okay, Mom.” His hand reach up and pat her cheeks. “ Hey, if you have time... Could you tell me about the surface? Or how you found me?”

She recapped her story, leaving out anything too awful or adult for him. She told him about all her friends that she’d made, the family she’d pulled together out of the wasteland. Shaun had all sorts of questions about Nick, the idea of a gen2 that could talk and reason amazed him. He seemed interested in the Brotherhood as well, but that was more likely due to the power armor and ship.

“Maybe one day I can go up there? You said Nat’s my age, right? And even if Duncan is littler than me, I’ll still play with him.” Shaun promised, and Vera abruptly pulled him close to her chest. She threaded a hand in his hair and pressed her forehead to the top of his head, biting her lip to try and stave away tears. “Mom?”

“I dreamed about this.” Really, she had to give Madison Li and her team massive kudos in spite of how much she wanted to kill them painfully. He was perfect. Everything she’d wanted in her boy: Smart and sweet and kind. His desires echoed what she’d pictured before: of saving him and brining him to Sanctuary or the Castle, walking to Diamond City so he could play with kids his own age or letting him run around with Duncan.

Shaun shifted on her lap, turning so he could wrap his arms around her torso. “I love you, Mom.”

She closed her eyes and smiled and let herself believe the lie. 

Once he’s asleep for the night she wanders outside as has become custom, finding J8 waiting for her at the foot of the residential tower where her room is. He silently leads her through various corridors until she sees a somewhat familiar man mopping the floors, back turned towards her. “E7.” J8 said flatly, and the poor synth jumped.

“Aaah, J8, don’t sneak up on me.” E7’s voice is husky still, but has such a sweet quality to it. He swatted at J8 with his mop, missing by a mile as the courser nimbly dodged. The regular synth laughed and looked first to the floor, then up at Vera. He was the sort of person that made Vera happier just by looking at him, from the sweet smile to his sparkling eyes. “Hello, mother.”

Even if she knew why they called her that, that it was programmed into them by a ‘Father’ that wanted her to develop emotional ties, it still made her feel warm inside. “Hey there, baby. It’s good to hear your voice.”

At her affectionate tone E7 beamed even more, moving quickly to pull her into an embrace. She squeaked and hugged him back: he was warm and slightly squishy, not hard muscled like a courser. J8 hissed and E7 abruptly pulled away. “Sorry, J8 said you called yourself ‘touchy-feely’.” He looked slightly abashed, but he still smiled.

“Hey, I am. No need apologizing over a hug, babe.” She patted the side of his face. God, he was cute. Kinda chubby, too. Cute, chubby boy. “I’m always here for hugs.”

E7 beamed and rolled his eyes at J8. “I told him.” He teased the courser, gently prodding at his side. They were familiar with one another, interesting. “From how you acted and how you helped, that you wouldn’t mind. You like us.”

“E7.” J8 sighed and rubbed his temples. “Please. Tone it down.” There’s an unsaid ‘for me’ at the end of that sentence. 

Wait. Did murder-puppy have a thing for chubby-boy? (Christ, these children needed names.) “You two know each other well?”

“Ah, I think so? I’ve gotten a few wipes, so I don’t really remember. J8’s tried to tell me about before, but it’s not sitting so well. Kinda feels weird. But he’s great!” E7 shrugged helplessly, but he didn’t look like it bothered him too much. “He helps me out, tries to keep me from getting wiped again. There’s always the risk of not waking up at all, apparently.”

Shit, how awful was that? Poor J8. Vera steered the conversation towards more cheerful topics, though they were few and far between. It wasn’t good to be a synth in the institute, after all. And, saddest of all, were the little tiny smiles that she’d catch on J8’s somber face as he watched E7 talk. 

J8 escorted her back to her room after the conversation was done, they couldn’t distract E7 for too long or he’d get behind in his work and be punished. God, this place was fucked up. “How many times has he been wiped?”

“Four.” J8 said tersely, staring ahead. “And he’s scheduled for another tomorrow.”

“Christ, why?” It wasn’t like there was an acceptable reason to forcibly remove someone’s personality and memories, but she wanted to know the reasoning behind it.

“His personality is defective. He smiles too much. He’s too kind. He forgets that we’re not human. He acts human. He tries to talk to people and make friends. He’s...” J8 looks down at her and sighed, he looked so tired and so defeated. “He’s too good, Mother. One of these times he won’t awaken on the table, or he’ll break like they want.”

Jesus wept, that was fucking awful. Just talking to that bright, bubbly bastard had made her night more enjoyable. How could you call that a defect? “I’m sorry, J8.” She wanted to say more, but, goddamnit, she didn’t know about their security, was she under watch? Would Ayo pull this conversation out of J8’s head?

These poor children. This place was a hellhole.

J8 stopped her outside of her room, grabbing her shoulder and leaning over to look her dead in the face. “Remember him. Me.” He realized what he was doing, that he was manhandling and ordering the ‘Mother’. He pulled away, trying to school his features back to neutrality. “Please.”

“Of course.” Vera threw her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly like she could just shove love into this poor broken man and make him right. He didn’t move in her embrace, didn’t move until she broke away. She watched him silently move down the hallway, leaving her alone. 

When Vera curls up on her bed she feels so fucking guilty. Shaun was hers, her baby, her responsibility. She’d caused all of this by not being there to teach him. God, all of this suffering, all of the fuckups. It was because of her family. This whole mess was her responsibility to clean up.

The next morning is routine, with X6 showing up to deliver her breakfast. Once it’s gone she walks the institute, checking in with Dr. Volkert to get her birth control shot. After that she heads to the Synth creation ward thing and strikes up a conversation with one of the scientists.

While there she gets a first hand view on how Synths are made, how their skeletons were formed and muscles formed from a protein and stem cell slurry.”So, the Synth component gives them their basic instructions and teaching? I mean, there’s no use making an adult if it’s got the mind of a baby.”

“Right, that’s one of the functions of the component. It controls the general hormone level, keeps them static.” The woman, Ginger was her name, replied. The Synth that Vera’d been watching be created stumbled out of the pool naked, wandering over to a Gen2 for a jumpsuit and direction. “It allows for the recall codes to work, and- Oh, damn it, excuse me Ma’am.”

Ginger strode purposely towards the door and the courser that had walked in, leading three Synths that looked lost and- Oh. There was poor E7, blank and empty looking. “Yes, all right, go away.” Ginger snapped at the courser, waving her hands at him an shooing him away like a cat. Granted, the courser slunk out much like one. “B3-16, P1-58, and, damn it, E7-05. How many more times are you going to take being wiped, E7?”

E7 stared blankly at her for a moment before smiling in a plastic manner. There’s still nothing behind his eyes, they’re dull and lifeless. “Hello, ma’am.” There’s none of the sparkle, none of the joy; it’s like seeing a slate wiped clean. “How may I assist?”

“Goddamn wipe happy bastard.” Ginger growled, gesturing towards a back room. “Report to diagnostics to confirm working order, all three of you.” P1 and B3 wander by Vera without noticing her, but E7 greets her with a sterile ‘Hello, Mother’ before wandering by and back into diagnostics. “Too friendly, what kind of a reason is that to wipe a Synth? ‘Oh, no, we failed at programming and made him too friendly and pleasant to be around.’ Big fucking woop. Justin Ayo can bite my ass.”

“I met him.” Vera mentioned, and Ginger snapped her head towards her. It was like she’d forgotten she was there. How embarrassing for her. “What a shame. He was so... cute.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Ginger sighed wistfully. “If the Personal Synth project is passed, I’ll take him as mine. At least that way he’d be safe from risking another wipe.”

Ah, Ginger. You’d been so promising before you expressed a desire to own another sentient creature as a sexbot.

The next day she returns down to the synth labs to learn more, picking people’s brains and reading terminals. It was fascinating, really, they were able to create life. Creating new adult humans, acting as a proxy by God, then refusing to admit they had souls or ideas. There’d been a recording she’d found while remotely snooping on Ayo’s terminal, something sent back from the Capital Wastes. A determined Synth, a courser, who made it out. ‘Self-Determination is not a malfunction!’ It was a cry that had fallen on largely deaf ears, but it struck true in her heart. Vera wondered what had happened to that Synth, if he’d managed to make a life for himself. She really hoped he had.

The entire time she’d been in the Institute Vera’d felt stretched thin, like any wrong move would break her apart. The tipping point fell on the seventh day, when the Director asked her to accompany him on a walk. To her surprise he lead her to the Synth retention bureau. “Ooh, is Ayo out? You know we butt heads.”

“Don’t worry, Mother.” The Director smiled at her, clearly confidant that Ayo wouldn’t try shit apparently. “I’d thought that with all the interest you’d shown in Synth creation, you’d like to see the process of reclamation.”

Ah, yes, because what didn’t say mother-and-son bonding time like watching a sentient being getting stripped of their free will and memories? Fuck this place. “It’s interesting, to be sure.” She said mildly and diplomatically.

They stepped through the doors to the bureau and the Director starts to explain. “It would be a waste of resources to scrap synths with stubborn programming issues, or the ones with major issues that malfunction and escape. We’re able to recycle them and fix their issues with a wipe.”

Ayo was doing his best to ignore her presence as he got everything set up. “J8-42, get over here.” He snapped, and-

God. Fucking. Damnit. 

J8 was almost criminally thin without his courser coat, following orders docilely. His last desperate request made sense now, he’d known he was going to get wiped as well. E7 had said that J8 had always talked to him after wiped, reminded him of the past. Now who would? She should’ve dragged him back that night, asked questions. “Synths have a major chipset in their brains, but another set goes down their spines. The harness here,” And J8 stepped into it as the Director explained. “Connects with those chips and immobilizes them.”

Vera wouldn’t have called it a harness, it was like some horrible chair thing. J8 didn’t look uncomfortable, his face was passive, but his eyes- God, his eyes would be in her nightmares. Just the knowledge that he was about to lose himself, that he was unable to escape his fate. Ayo moved to a terminal beside the horrible chair and started to type about.

“Director Ayo will cue up the J8’s base programming to repair him once he’s wiped then start the process.” Ayo rolled his eyes at the Director’s explanation and hit a button. J8 writhed, hands grasping at nothing. He shuddered and shivered, unable to fight his destiny.

God, she wanted to look away, wanted to leave, wanted to burn this whole goddamn world to the ground. But she doesn’t dare, she watches without blinking and witnesses the death of the J8 she’d known and had coffee with, the sweet little murder puppy that wouldn’t remember her in a few minutes. The Director continued to explain. The Synth component would start an electroshock therapy while causing the brain to produce hormones when the programming was introduced. Chemically rewarding the new memories, painfully shocking the old ones.

It took twenty minutes of shaking on J8’s part before Ayo ended the rewrite and he fell limp. “And there you have it, how we reclaim synths. J8 was overdue for a re-write. We generally do every year or so unless needed more often.” The Director is all smiles, like he hadn’t seen what she’d just seen.

J8 stood from the table, a blank and broken scarecrow. God, she wished she could scream. “Very informative. Thank you for showing me, dear.” Vera smiled at her not-son, she lied through her teeth and resolutely buried all of the feelings. She could feel those later.

Yeah. She couldn’t do this much more. Vera could practically feel a breakdown coming on.

That’s the last night she spent in the Institute. She knew she should find E7, tell him what she knew about him and J8. But the idea of looking for that wiped clean husk of what had been a sweet and lovely man made her stomach turn. So, instead, she chose cowardice. Vera recorded a brief message on a holotape, stating the basics she knew, and asked Shaun if he’d deliver it to him. Her not-boy had held the tape seriously and nodded, pleased to have a task.

Vera stopped in with Holdren and picked up the seeds like she’d promised before she searched out her son. “Hey, I’m going to head up top to get some things done.” She told him, giving his hand a squeeze. The Director’s desk was covered in papers, his work was never done.

He looked a bit dismayed, like he hadn’t expected her to leave so soon and he says as much. “I had hoped you would find yourself at home here.”

Time to do what she did best: Lie. “Sweetheart, it’s lovely here. I love it here. You’ve done so much to make me comfortable and I appreciate it more than you could know.” Vera sighed and looked wistful while her mind scrabbled for other things to say. What were the words she wanted to hear growing up with an emotionally absent family? “I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished here, but there’s so much left to do. I need to go up top to make things better and continue our family’s legacy. I’m so, so proud of you. I love you, Shaun.”

The Director’s eyes are momentarily soft, he gently touched her cheek. “I... Thank you, Mother. Please return soon. The Institute will always be your home.”

“Nothing will keep me from you.” That one isn’t a lie, it’s a promise. He was her son. This was her mess to clean up. 

Despite her desire to leave as soon as she can, Vera returned to her room one last time to bid farewell to the Synth child. She had a horrible sudden urge to grab him and run, to teleport out and damn all the consequences. His little arms are tight around her, she could do it easily. No one could stop her.

She loves this boy, and he is a boy, even if he’s not the son she should’ve had. By design he’s one she wants. Shaun is real and he’s alive, and he’s in a place that viewed his memories and life as something that could be stripped away at any time. “Be safe, baby. I love you.” And these aren’t lies.

“I love you too, mom. Be careful. Come back to me.”

“Nothing will keep me from you.” She repeated.

Vera flipped the radio of her pip boy on, dialed into the classical station. How was it again that X6 had done it...? “This is Mother, ready to relay to Sanctuary.”

Nothing much happens, and then everything happens. There’s a crackle and thunder, the smell of burning and the groan of twisting metal. The jet lag, or whatever the fuck you’d call being ripped apart and sent out over a molecular relay, hits her hard and she collapses to her knees.

Two sets of hands, one grabbing each arm, pull her from the teleport pad before it crashes down. Vaguely she can hear people calling out, cheering, joy all around. Okay. She can do this. She can be calm and relay her information, and-

“Where’s her boy?”

Okay, fuck no. There’s no dealing with this. The only thing left was to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Nuka World. Family fun times for everyone involved!


	13. Pain Train: not just a skill in the strength tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Name’s Gage. Porter Gage. And ya’ll wandered right into a trap."
> 
> Vera rolled her eyes, but they were more like herself than he’d seen in weeks. “Story of my goddamn life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> Canon typical violence, raider typical threats including dismemberment and rape (With neither actually happening) and playing fast and loose with how both radiation and using a tourniquet works.
> 
> For your viewing pleasure: [Pre-war Vera](https://imgur.com/gSmHOg0) and [Post war Vera 2.1 seconds away from making Mason wish she had him on a leash](https://imgur.com/9gzFWRI)  
> Please forgive typos, finger is still broken but less disgustingly purple.

While her condition has improved from when she entered the vault, Vera was still a quiet shadow of herself when they returned to the surface. She silently scouted out Hancock, speaking with him and handing over something from her pocket. Before they left Sanctuary she met up with Preston and passed over several containers of seeds, giving him the lowdown of her investigation and testing in the Institute. 

They leave town shortly after, heading south. “Figure we can head to the old tram station, follow the tracks to Nuka-World.” She said, voice scratchy from disuse. She hadn’t elaborated why she wanted to go to Nuka-World, and Danse privately thought that seeing another example of a pre-war establishment destroyed by time and the nuclear blast would put her mood even more foul.

However, Danse was also of the view that whatever she wanted and that he could give, she would get. Whatever she had seen during her time at the Institute had scarred her. Had it involved her son? What horrors had happened to cause her to go so... blank? It was hard for him to pin down a word to accurately describe it: She was clearly still herself and not a replacement, but her manners and reactions were muted and often delayed.

Even when they entered combat it took a minute for her to come back to herself and tear into combat. She retains that bit of self for a few minutes after the battle, smiling as she’d wipe her tire iron or knife clean. Soon enough the smile would fade and she’d go back to just... Emptiness.

When they have a moment of calmness walking through the Wastes, she occasionally will reach forward and grab hold of his arm, bringing her head to rest against his armor. Vera doesn’t talk while she does this, just holds onto him and leans against him. For comfort or support it doesn’t matter, Danse is more than strong enough to hold her weight.

There’s a scuffle when they arrive at the old Nuka-World station, a large platoon of gunners complete with two assaultrons. Vera pulled back for once, climbing on top of a tipped over bus to give herself a vantage point while she pulled The Last Minute from her back. Danse kept things under control on the ground while she picked off other snipers on the roofs when they stuck their heads out, before turning her attention to the forces mobbing him.

They finish off the remainder of the group and head up the stairs into the old railway station. To both of their surprise the train is still in operation, shortly after entering it pulls into the station and the doors open. “If it was able to return then there is nothing wrong with the track.” Danse said, sticking his head into the car and looking around. No one was there, the car was silent. Vera ducked under him and walked into the car, heading towards the conductor’s cabin. It was simple to activate, only a few buttons set it off down the tracks. They return to the cabin where they’d entered, and Danse spotted a civilian walking into the train station and awkwardly watching the train pull out.

“He’ll have to wait on the next one.” Vera murmured, leaning against his arm again. Danse edged back slowly until they were close enough to the seats that he could crouch down, Vera following his lead. “Thanks for coming with me, Danse.”

“Of course.” He worried at his lower lip and sighed. “If this will improve your mood I am glad to do so. I am not sure what happened to you in there, but I will do whatever I can.”

She goes silent for so long that Danse doesn’t think she’s going to reply at all, and that’s fine. He’s said his piece. “Y’wanna know why they wanted my baby? You’ll hate it.” Vera asks finally, her arms tightening around his arm more.

“Of course.”

Vera looked down and curled up so close to him that she was nearly on top of his lap. “They needed DNA undamaged by radiation.”

They’d used her son as an experiment? Why wait until he was older? How cruel the world was, that a grieving and determined Mother had lost her son so close to finding him. “I’m sorry.” He said as gently as he could, reaching his free gauntlet over to touch her cheek. Vera lifts her head to look at him, there aren’t tears in her eyes but the bleakness within is somehow worse. “We’ll make them pay for what they’ve done to you.”

“I plan on it.” There’s steel in her voice even if her eyes are lost. “They offered me a job. I charmed the shit out of them. I’m going to use and abuse them, and burn them from the inside out if needed.”

“That’s my girl.” Danse said proudly before he actually thought about the words he’d spoken. Vera raised an eyebrow at him as he started to stammer and undoubtedly turned red. “I, uh, I mean, that is- Well, I was wondering if-”

But his discomfort’s worth it, her face cracks into a smile and she started to giggle and snort, smacking at his armor. “You’re such a doof.” Danse didn’t know what ‘doof’ was slang for, but her tone was affectionate. Acceptable. “And I- Well, fuck.” She stood abruptly and crossed to the other side of the tram, peering out the window. Danse rose and followed her, looming behind her as they both stared at a passing tree decorated with corpses in varying degrees of decay.

“Raiders.” He said with disgust, hand reflexively going to his rifle. As they left the tree behind the monorail’s PA system, which had previously been playing a 200 year old tour of the park, fizzled and popped.

“So, we got ourselves another sucker wantin’ to see ‘the happiest place on earth’.” The voice said, drawling in a fashion more typical of the west or south than Boston. “I only got a minute, so you better listen and listen good.”

Vera rolled her eyes, but they were more like herself than he’d seen in weeks. “Story of my goddamn life.” She muttered, pulling her rifle off her back and checking the load out.

“Name’s Gage. Porter Gage. And ya’ll wandered right into a trap. This ain’t no fun house, it’s a deathtrap. But if you somehow make it through alive, I’ve got an interesting offer for you.” They started to pull into the final station, and Danse could see various figures waiting for them. One was big, obviously a set of raider power armor. “In the mean time, put on a good show. I’ll be watching.” Gage said with an audible smirk, and the line crackled off.

“Do you have a stealthboy?” He asked tersely and Vera patted under her coat. “Good. We have a welcoming party. If you can get yourself somewhere high and try to take out as many as you can, I’ll hold them off and keep the raider in the suit busy.”

“Sounds good.” Vera gestured for him to lean over and gave him a quick and powerful kiss. “Lets kill us some raiders.”

She activates the stealthboy before the doors open and likely cuts out as soon as she can. Danse shouldered his laser rifle and ran out shooting, catching two raiders before they can react.

He can hear various yelling and threats coming from the raiders as they duck for cover, likely hoping to whittle him down with the help of their own suited comrade. The raider’s suit is already in poor shape, sparking randomly and moving slow. It was disgusting how these degenerates treated their armor.

The raider in the suit had a minigun, and the bullets chewed into his own suit but his plating held. Keeping a good hold on his gun Danse charged the other suit, hitting it hard with his shoulder and causing the raider wearing it to collapse, bullets spraying out behind him. He hears a few men yelping, the sound of barrels and boxes collapsing, and Vera shrieking angrily.

Danse turns his head in time to see Vera come into view, her perch on some boxes destroyed by the combination of bullets and a flailing raider. Her stealthboy sparks on her hip uselessly. Before she can get her footing and find another perch a raider has her. One hand goes into her hair, pulling her up roughly and the other arm wraps around her neck.

“Hey, jackass! You want your girl to live, you’re gonna step out of that suit!” The raider called shortly before howling in pain. Most people would go for the raider’s arm, they’d try to pull it away from their neck. Vera dropped her rifle and went for his face, fingernails tearing into his skin as she tried to find his eyes. The heels of her boots started to stomp into the ground, catching his feet occasionally.

He’s paralyzed by inaction for long enough that the raider lets go of her hair and fumbles in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade and pressing it roughly below his elbow and against the base of her throat. “Try it again, Bitch.” He snarled, and Vera’s eyes went wild.

“Try me, motherfucker, I survived a goddamn nuke!” She snarled, tipping her head forward against his arm before throwing it back and into his nose. It’s only a matter of time before he sinks that blade into her neck, and Danse swears to himself before leaving his armor. “Godamnit, Danse, you dense motherfucker!”

“Smart.” The raider said, dragging Vera towards a door. Another raider put his gun to Danse’s head and guided him towards the same door while the man in the suit of armor jumped out of it to take Danse’.

Before he gets too far the raiders search him, not finding much by way of supplies. Spare ammo, weapons, stims; all those he carried in the storage areas of his suit. Another raider had moved to Vera to assist with stripping her of anything too valuable, her Minuteman duster tossed on the floor and her bag of supplies stolen. Her Gauss rifle had been grabbed off the ground, but the raiders did leave her with a pistol and her boot knife.

One whistled appreciatively at the sight of her in her Vault suit. “You sure we can’t keep this one?” He asked, circling her like she’s prey.

“After what she did to my nose? Fuck that, I wanna watch this bitch suffer.” The bloody nosed raider argued.

The raiders gesture Danse in first before throwing Vera in behind him. “You better pray to God I die in here.” She snarled, five foot one inch of pure unadulterated rage. “I’ll make armor out of your hide.”

“I’ll enjoy watching you die. Have fun!” The raider that Vera had tussled with waved, face bloody from his broken nose.

Vera howled ragefully at the door, kicking it a few times. She turned her gaze on Danse and opened her mouth to likely say something horrible and damaging but was cut off by the PA system. The raider gleefully spoke about a gauntlet, and there was a painted sign on the wall pointing down a flight of stairs. Vera took in a deep breath and let it back out. “All right. Let’s get through this, murder everyone in this goddamn park, and get your suit back.”

“You know I had to get out of it.” Danse said and Vera shook her head curtly. That wasn’t a topic she wanted to talk about clearly.

“And they’re off! Let’s hope our new vics can draw some inspiration from our previous victims.” The voice on the radio taunts, and Vera pointed a single finger up at the ceiling.

“That guy’s our first target.”

“Agreed.”

There’s a body at the foot of the stairs, and Vera takes the weapon from him before squinting at Danse and pulling off the corpse’ jacket. “I know, gross. But your suit gives you no padding. Take the gun too, I’ve got my pistol and knife.”

A pistol, a pipe rifle, a knife, and two lightly armored people against a gauntlet made by raiders. How could they not dominate?

Laser mounted turrets, that was how. As soon as they entered the next room the door swung shut behind them and locked, and the tale-tell waking beep of laser turrets started. They barely had time to dive for cover behind some debris before the shots started to come in. The rifle on the corpse was decent for long ranged shots at least, and Danse ducked out occasionally when there was a break in fire to snipe the turrets.

When he knocked out one on the right, Vera dashed to the left and took up a new position behind a Nuka-Cola machine, shooting out another turret. They moved slowly and methodically through the room, taking down turrets and using the debris as barriers. Both had a few singes by the time they were done but there was no major damage. Before leaving the room they scouted corpses in the room, finding some ammo and a few stims. 

Vera stripped a somewhat intact corpse of it’s jacket, laying it out flat and packing the supplies in the center. She folded the material over on itself, then grabbed the boot laces from the corpses’ shoes to tie around the jacket. She knotted the sleeves together and slung it over one arm. “Not the most elegant solution, but neither one of us have pockets or bags.”

They enter the next room to the sounds of the radio operator mocking them and Danse barely misses tripping a tripwire. Vera first disarmed that wire then eyed the area in front of them, lined with even more tripwires. “Okay, fuck this place in particular.” She said before turning down a side path and disarming a lone tripwire before coming across a locked door. “Gimmie cover.”

Danse did as asked, and a minute or so later heard the lock pop open. The radio operator sneered again as they went through the door and up a flight of stairs, but he sounded fairly pissed that they’d bypassed the main room. Looked like he’d just have to be disappointed.

There’s a few simple rooms past that with the usual land mine traps, a Tesla trap on the ceiling, and a three door puzzle that nearly gets Danse a face full of grenades. That in itself was enough to make Danse swear silent retribution on every raider involved in this, but as they descend a fallen concrete wall ramp and Vera’s pip-boy starts to chirp his hatred grows.

Radiation. Vera might be gung-ho when it comes to land mines and turrets, but he doesn’t miss how her steps slow as they near the bottom. She’s afraid. Rightly so, given her history and low tolerance for radiation. “Go back up top, I’ll scout in the room.” He ordered and for once she did as she was told.

“Be careful.” Vera called after him, her voice echoing against the concrete.

The room is worse than he thought, there’s a large pile of nuclear waste barrels in the center of the room near a large circular desk. To his right there’s a red door and when he tests it’s handle it’s locked. Lock picking isn’t his specialty. Though he suspects it would be typical raider fare to hide the key by that center desk he sticks to the outer portions of the room first to minimize his exposure. In one corner he finds a recent corpse, perhaps only there a day or so. This one has a bag of Rad-Away and a mostly full bottle of Rad-X by his side, and Danse appropriates both before he continues his search.

He’s about ready to give in, to call Vera to try to pick the lock when he finds a key. Stumbling over to the door he nearly trips over his own feet, hands shaking as he slots the key and turns it. The key turns and he nearly falls through the door. “Vera-” He calls, hoping his voice carries. “I’m through. To the right’s the door.”

Footsteps echo in the hallway suddenly she’s ducking under his arm, tugging him the rest of the way. The part of his mind that prepares for disasters and sees threats around every corner starts to scream as they head into the next room, they’re going too fast and he can’t check things. But they don’t get too far away, just enough so that her Geiger counter stops chirping so fast.

She leans him against the wall for support and pulls away, hands reaching up to cup his face. “You did so good. Thank you, love.” Her voice is soft and sweet and more welcome than even Rad-X. The level of affection there warms him and nurtures a shriveled up part of himself. It feels good. “Lemmie scout a bit.”

“Be careful.” He slurred, leaning back against the wall fully. Vera just pulled his hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of his fingers before drifting away. Soon enough she’s back at his side, propping him up and guiding him. “S’okay?”

“It’s fine. Found some supplies, some Rad-X. It’s no Rad-Away, but it’ll do in a pinch.” Vera helped him down some stairs and, goddamn, he aches down into his bones. “We’ll find a place to hole up, get you taken care of, and start out again after we have some rest.”

He wants to argue that this place is far too dangerous to settle down, but he knows that stumbling along further in his condition is stupid. There are no traps in the stairway, and in the next room there’s a little alcove to the left. Vera pokes her head in and drags him in after, kicking a skeleton away from a sleeping bag on the ground. She settles him down and fusses around in her pack. “Found some Rad-Away.” He mumbled, offering it out to her as he slid down the rocky wall.

“Good, thank God.” She said and soon enough she’s finding a vein in his arm, climbing into his lap to hold the bag up since there’s no way to tack it into the wall. She sort of cradles his head with her free arm, sinking her fingers into his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. “Just stay with me.”

He just made a little mumble, nuzzling in a bit closer. It was nice to be so near, even with the horrible situation they were in. And it was a horrible situation, trapped in a twisted trail of traps and trials. No power armor, no Gauss rifle, just a few pistols and no armor and- “We’re gonna die here.” He slurred, lips dragging against her neck as he spoke.

“It’ll take more than some fucking raiders to kill me.” Vera continued to scratch at his scalp, leaned her cheek against the side of his head. “And I won’t let you die. You’re... You’re real important to me, Danse.”

She sounded awkward, almost stumbling over her words. How funny, normally she was the glib one and he was the one to trip and fumble in the presence of her radiance. “Mmm.” 

“Are we.. Are we dating? Is this the most awkward and horrible date of all time?” Vera questioned, and Danse could picture her face screwing up in frustration as she spoke. “Do I call you Vic instead of Danse since we’re closer? Where are we even going with this.”

Because the perfect time to continue the conversation he’d started on the train was right now when he had a bag of Rad-Away going into his system and felt like irradiated garbage. Right. “I don’t know where we’re going with this. I just know that being with you feels good. Right. Like...” He struggles for words like a drowning man struggles for air, the inability to find what he needs presses against the inside of his chest and thuds in his head. “I always knew there was something missing from my life, and now I’ve found it.”

“I’m not.. Danse, Vic, I’m not a good person. But I’ll try to be better for you.” Her voice sounds ragged, like she’s holding back tears as the fingers in his hair tighten almost desperately. “Just hold me to it, call me on my bullshit, and... I feel good with you, too. I was starting to forget what it was like to have someone covering my six, watching out for me, able to back me up.”

Affection warms his heart, and it truly is amazing how she found that empty space in himself and made herself at home in it. He likes that she’s able to be honest with her softer feelings with him when she typically just spoke with humor or aggression otherwise. “Always.” It was good that she and Maxson seemed to be getting along better as time passed, because if he were to be honest with himself he didn’t know which one he’d choose if it came down to it.

Vera pulled the needle from his arm and gently massaged the injection site as she tossed the empty bag off to the side. “Get some rest, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me up in a few hours.” Danse instructed, giving her one last embrace before she crawled out of his lap. “Oh, and. Danse, Vic, even Victory. Whatever you want to call me.”

She looked over his shoulder and grinned impishly. “So I can call you mine?”

“You already do.” His tone is affectionate, and for once she doesn’t make him blush. He watches her for a moment, leaning against the ragged opening in the wall and keeping a lookout for anything that would harm them. He feels safe.

The scent of cooking meat wakes him sometime later. Vera’s made a fire and was cooking something over it with skewers. “Only thing I’ve seen is rats.” She said when Danse sat up and rubbed at his face, nodding at the campfire. “They’re not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

They pass her canteen back and forth and eat the skewers, the meat ropy and chewy but not too bad. After he’d finished his skewer Danse stood and gently bumped her back towards where he’d been sleeping. “I feel better. It’s your turn.” He snagged her boot knife from her and went to stand watch.

Though Vera rolled her eyes at him she did curl up on top of the old sleeping bag and fell asleep shortly after. Danse does get momentarily distracted just watching her, but the skitter of small feet and hissing brings him back to task. The rats are about the size of one of his boots and held no fear despite his greater size, hissing and jumping at him. They went down easy, however, and Danse found himself no more worse for wear.

He lets her sleep a few hours before gently shaking her awake, then they set off into the next room. If they hadn’t been paranoid, or had gone along tired, this room may have been an issue. At the far end sits a cymbal clacking monkey trap, but Danse has dealt with these before and while he was more proficient with a laser weapon, he could shoot a pistol damn accurate.

The raider on the PA system whined about something, but it was easy to ignore him. The key to a nearby locked door is found on a lit up console behind the monkey. Danse enters the next room, a labyrinth created by broken power generators, and turns to head down a path left. Vera grabbed the back of his jumpsuit and gestured to the floor: a scale trap lays partially covered by debris. The hallway in front of the trap is coated with oil, it likely lead to some incendiary trap.

They turn the other way and ignore the first two hallways: one leads to a cage filled with rats and another is marked by makeshift bombs on the walls. The final hallway is a dead end, but it has the corpse of a young Gunner. His laser pistol lay useless at his side and Danse liberated it and the small stock of ammo. Vera unpacked her jacket bag and offered him more that she’d scavenged. “And here everyone gives you trouble for being a pack rat.” He teased, earning himself a grin. “So, the oil corridor or the bomb corridor?”

“Eh, I’ve got a gentle hand. Let’s try the bombs.” Vera backed out and returned to that area. She moves slow, pulling wires only after she’s positive they’re the right ones. There’s no beeping or explosions, and they climb the stairs at the end of the corridor, crossing over a shoddily erected bridge that leads over a generator. Vera’s pip boy clicks as they cross over, so they turn left at the first chance and hope that their path won’t take them by whatever’s radioactive. There’s one lone functioning generator that gets it’s core liberated and they head towards an open door.

At the far end of the hallway there’s a turret, but it’s easily dispatched at a distance via bullet and laser fire. The raider on the PA system again taunts them, and Vera grits her teeth. “Oh, I’m going to do things to that asshole that’ll have you doubting my sanity.” She said as she knelt to pick the lock on a door by the smoking ruined turret. There’s nothing in there but a box of explosives, which Vera loots. “I’m going to take this frag mine and shove it so far up his ass, when I kick him in the stomach it’s going to prime and blow him to hell.”

“Honestly, whatever you do to him at this point is warranted.” Danse gingerly peered into the next room, some sort of ruined underground tunnel system filled with debris and ruined construction equipment. Paranoid due to previous rooms he looks down and spots the tale-tell light of a frag mine. “Mines in this room.”

“All right, lemmie go first. Take my bag, we’re going to use every one of their goddamn traps against them.” He untied the boot-strings and peered into the bulging makeshift bag. Huh, she’d been grabbing a lot more than he’d suspected. A few grenades and stims, a bottle of Rad-X, a few pre-war food items. After she disarmed the first mine she handed it up to him and it joined her hoard.

Crouched down they move through the area, Vera getting more and more mines for her retribution plot. When the path splits they start to creep down the first narrow path, but after Vera spots oil covering the ground in front of them they edge back. A narrow space and oil on the ground? That didn’t bode well. The second path, while still covered in mines, was at least wider and didn’t have oil covering everything. Once they got to the end of the hallway it turned out that both paths lead to the same point, anyway. 

The next room consisted of a pathway of rickety boards suspended over water that lead to a door at the far end. Vera grabbed her bag back, settled it safely on her hip, and looked back at him. “What do you think? Wanna make a break for it?”

Danse surveyed the water and frowned, spotting not only a super mutant corpse but the tale-tell husks of Mirelurks and a nest of eggs. “If at all possible, yes. I don’t fancy having to fight Mirelurks in water. The door’s probably locked, though.” He spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the crabs.

“Yeah, probably. I’ll cross first and take care of that, you come after.” She scraped her boots against the concrete to try and get off any oil remaining before she attempted the crossing. Vera took one last deep breath and was off, feet nimble as she dashed from board to board quickly, avoiding putting too much weight on any one part. She squeezes as close to the door as she could, barely able to reach down and pick the lock.

Vera manages to get the door open and falls through it, the boards on the last bit wobbling precariously at the sudden loss of weight. She turned around quickly and grabbed at them, but the last section of bridge slipped down into the water. Danse watched her bite her lower lip hard and likely hold back a scream. There was no sound of mirelurk eggs popping nor the sound of the full sized Lurks popping up from their mud nests.

Danse waved his arms to get her attention and gestured to the gap, holding his hands first a small distance apart then a larger distance apart. It took her a moment to understand, then she eyed the distance with squinted eyes before holding up four fingers and pointing to her foot. Okay, he could’ve just gotten it with the fingers but kudos for her being imaginative. She held up her finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture before heading into the room to scout things out.

It only took a few moments for her to return and she gave him a thumbs up. He gestured for her to move out of the way and she did, and he launched himself out onto the boards. Danse’ goal in this situation is to keep as close to the concrete supports as he can before making one last jump at the end. The first section of boards fall out after he crosses and he hears a Lurk popping up from it’s hole. He reaches that last support and launches off, clearing the jump and stumbling into the room.

“C’mon, C’mon!” Vera grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the room, the sound of Mirelurks scuttling from somewhere. She leads him through and opened door and slammed it shut behind them, barring it from the inside. Danse peered through the window at the top to see three mirelurks come from a tunnel beside the door. Vera yanked him down and they waited in silence.

“Damn it-!” Danse yelped when the door behind them shook from the onslaught of at least one mirelurk. The trail ahead was slick with oil and lined with various traps. Grenades hung from the ceiling and swayed lightly on their strings. “I’ll get the grenades, you disarm the traps!”

Vera was already on her knees at the first pressure trap, disarming it with an expert’s touch. That doesn’t stop her from wailing a loud ‘Fuuuuuck’ as she does so. Danse plucks a pair of grenades from their strings and she edges around him to disarm another trap. There’s another pair of grenades, then she pulls apart a makeshift bomb. They turn the corner and Vera wails again: the corridor is lined with traps and soaked in oil.

Fuck it, they had to press on. Danse can hear the Mirelurks starting to cave the door in as he climbed on top of a barrel to start grabbing grenades. With no other option he starts unzipped his jumpsuit and tucked them against his body. As long as the pins aren’t pulled it’s safe enough. Theoretically. Vera’s on her hands and knees, oil soaking into that jumpsuit as she pulled tripwires and disarmed traps as fast as she could. Just as they hear the door crack open at the bottom of the stairs and the mirelurks scuttle in they can get to the next door and shove themselves through it.

It slams behind them and locks, because of course it does. The raider that had been taunting them all along cackles as their gasping for air becomes choking. The room’s full of some kind of gas. Beside him Vera’s hacking and choking, eyes watering. Danse holsters his laser pistol and grabs his pipe rifle, not wanting to set everything alight. Vera stumbled to a nearby door and stomped on a pair of radroaches, but it was locked. From the way her hands were already shaking and how his eyes were watering, it was unlikely she could pick it.

That was confirmed when she turned to look at him, and for the first time in this god forsaken hellhole he sees fear there. They’re going to die there, choking and gasping for air, come so far and yet not far enough.

No. Fuck that, for once in his goddamn life he was going to have a happy ending. Danse grabbed her wrist and tugged her on, they stumbled over the dead corpse of a gunner and into another room. Vera’s eyes are still sharp and despite how they water and how her vision must be going as gray as Danse’, she spots a computer password on the desk. At the other end of the room they find a key lodged into the other side of the cage door, beside a door that had to be released with a terminal.

Together they stumble back towards that first locked door, leaning on each other for support as Danse slots the key into the door and Vera fell forward onto the terminal for support. Radroaches start crawling from everywhere and Danse stomps down on them as best he can, keeping them away from Vera as she types the password in with shaking fingers. But there’s a lot of roaches and he’s getting so lightheaded, he feels them crawling up his back and biting at his neck and chest and they’re crawling up her too. Will the gas get them first or will they get eaten alive?

Vera slapped her palm down on a keyboard button and the far door opened, depressurizing the room and sending a wave of fresh air in. She doesn’t bother to swipe the radroaches off, just grabs his arm and drags herself towards that door. Danse follows her lead, having only the barest presence of mind to shut the door behind them and bar it just in case the Mirelurks are still on their tail. Together they half crawl, half trip up the stairs and into some sort of shed.

But the air is as sweet as Commonwealth air gets, they take in big ragged gasps as they finally take care of the radroaches they’d picked up. Vera looks a mess and he bets he does too: eyes bloodshot, a combination of tears and snot cover her face, and the one cheek is bleeding from a radroach bite. She manages a shaking smile and he leans forward, not caring what they look like. They survived, they’re alive, and his hand comes up to fist in her hair as he kisses her.

It’s a short kiss, they can’t spend too much time being vulnerable, but it’s enough to make her giggle and to restore his flagging morale. “That a grenade in your jumpsuit or are you just happy to see me?” She asked, and Danse silently started to fish grenades out of his jumpsuit. From the look on her face she hadn’t seen him shove them in there in the first place and she fell against the wall, cackling.

Her laughter attracted a mutation of bug that he’d yet to see in the Commonwealth, some sort of swarming insect and large ants. Vera stumbled back to her feet and cried out a defiant: “And fuck you guys too!” before stomping viciously at one of the ants. Danse swapped his pistol for the laser pistol and fired into the swarming bastards. Neither one of them escape without bites, one particularly nasty ant manages to bite through one of Vera’s boots and his face gets swarmed by the flying shits.

There’s a hive at the far end and Danse doesn’t like their odds against it. Vera finished packing the grenades against all the other shit she’s hoarded in her now bulging makeshift bag. They give the hive a wide berth and head into the next room.

And they’re outside, in a caged in area with chain link fencing on all sides an above. He hears three things at about the same time: the raider that had been taunting them the entire time call for audience participation, the chain link starts to creak as people move across it, and Vera calls at him to run.

It’s a mad dash as raiders start to take shots at them, there’s nowhere to grab cover and shoot back. The only luck that they have is that they’re fast, it’s getting dark out, and the chain link seems to make it harder for the assholes to aim. They take the occasional shots, he hears Vera yelp a few times and a new wound pops up on her arms. The bastards are aiming for the head instead of the torso, taking a fancy shot over one to more easily kill.

As they round a corner a turret turns in their direction and gets a few shots off before they can put it down. But taking the time to deal with the turrets makes them an easy target, Danse feels a sudden sharp pain tear through his thigh as they head towards the door. He’s starting to lag behind as Vera wrenches the door open, she reaches back and grabs him by the front of his jumpsuit to pull him those last few feet.

They’re through, they’re safe, and Danse starts really feeling all of those hurts that he’d pushed through in the last stretch, and he’s getting lightheaded again. As Vera looks at her arm wound he looks down at his leg, and-

“Oh.” He said casually, staring down at his leg. That was a whole lot of blood, the wound was to his right thigh and was already seeping both down to his knee and across to the left thigh. “Huh.”

He has to be going into shock. Any pain that he should be feeling is muted, dampened. Vera looks over her shoulder at him as he stumbles back against the wall. Danse blinks and she’s suddenly at his side, talking to him but the words are garbling, her eyes are wide and wild as she’s supporting his slide to the ground.

Vera’s fingers firmly press into his inner hip, putting pressure on the artery in an attempt to slow the bleeding. But there’s already so much gone, her clever fingers quickly coated in his blood. He has a sudden giddy thought, she’d always crowed that if a nuke couldn’t kill her nothing would. Well, it looked like she was right, but it didn’t take a nuke to kill him. Just a nuka-world.

“I’m sorry.” He slurred, vision going darker and darker, the sound of static filling his ears. If this is it, then his only regret is letting her carry on alone. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

And that’s the last he knows.

Meanwhile: One stunned and bug bitten, gunshot grazed, slightly irradiated, and soaked in oil ex-Popsicle stared up at him with a gaping open mouth. “You filthy motherfucker.” She seethed at Danse’ slack face. “You don’t tell me you love me and do your best to die!”

Fuck him, she’d been determined to save him before and now doubly so: you didn’t do that kind of thing! She keeps the pressure on his artery with one firm hand while slipping the makeshift bag off of her shoulder and rifling through it with the other. Okay. Pickings are slim when it came to medical supplies: She had a whole four stimpacks and a vial of Med-X. She’d save that for herself, Mr. Unconscious didn’t have any damn need for painkillers and she was going to have to drag his corn-fed bulky ass around until he woke up. No blood bags, and Danse had lost an awful-fucking-lot of blood.

Normally you wouldn’t tie a tourniquet around a wound, it might’ve been all the rage in those campy pre-war movies but Vera’d seen war, she’d seen what happened if you let one get wrapped to long. You didn’t slap them around willy nilly, especially if you didn’t know when you’d be getting proper treatment. But this was going to be a case of possibly losing the limb and saving the person. Besides, Ingram could always trick him out a new set of armor if he lost a leg. He might hate her, but he’d be alive to do it.

The blood flow had slowed since she start putting pressure on the artery, which was good. She suspected that there was a nick if not an outright hit to the artery in the inner thigh which was why there was so much fucking blood. Some dumb-ass fucking yokel raider trying to shoot her man in the ass and caught him in his thick-as-fuck thighs.

But what was she going to use for a tourniquet? It wasn’t like materials were plentiful. Her sleeve might do, but then there was the problem of having to let go of his leg to cut it off. Or, well. Maybe...? She unzipped the jumpsuit and slipped one arm out and pulled his thigh up just enough to get the sleeve under him. Vera looped her sleeve around on itself, then gripped the wrist of the sleeve with her free hand and pulled herself back, using her weight to pull it as tight as she could. A peice of loose rebar will act as her wedge... thing (okay, she’d stopped paying attention through Genny’s talk on how to tie a tourniquet when the asshole had started getting real technical on her) and she tied the second knot over the rebar.

Once the knots were tight as she could get them she let go of his thigh and started cranking the bar, fishing in her boot for her knife to tear his jumpsuit apart to judge if the bleeding was slowing at all. She just needed to get it to slow enough that the Stims would have a chance to work instead of getting flushed out of him along with all of his fucking blood.

Danse is getting really pale under all that wasteland dirt, and she pushes the fluttering fear growing in her chest down because ain’t nobody got time to fall apart.

The blood flow is slowing, and she can still feel a pulse so he’s not dying at a super fast pace at least. Yay! She fished out two stims and injected him with them, eyeing the wound anxiously. She doesn’t risk more than two, it’d been proven in various medical journals that if you overloaded yourself with stims you risked a whole slew of permanent problems that Vera didn’t want to inflict on Danse. But the combination of the tourniquet and the Stims have the blood flow slimming down into a blood trickle, so that’s enough for her to tear off a sleeve from her makeshift bag and use that as a slightly disgusting padding against the wound. She figured that stimpacks had enough antibiotics in them that one jacket she’d pulled off a corpse wouldn’t kill him.

When all’s said and done he’s still breathing, and Vera rocked back on her heels and brought her bloodstained hands up to cover her mouth, fighting back the anxiety attack that was brewing. He was alive. She’d done that much. She needed to somehow track down blood packs, needed to find someone who wasn’t an idiot to make sure she’d done enough, needed to get him stable enough that she could take that tourniquet off and not loose his leg, needed to-

Needed to find out whomever the fuck was banging on that window and interrupting her freakout, because goddamn-! Vera turned around, one titty out and face covered in her boyfriend’s blood, to stare at some bigass jackass in a power armor suit banging on a window to get her attention. “Excuse the fuck out of me, but can I help you?” She asked and, good, she’s getting angry. She can do a whole lot of shit when she’s angry.

“Oi, Bitch, get out here!”

Yes, feed the anger, you filthy Aussie sounding fuck.

Vera rose to her feet and slipped her arm back into her now sleeveless suit, zipping it up as she crossed to the glass. “Oh, I’m going to get out there. And I’m going to immobilize every joint in your power armor before ripping off that ugly fucking helmet so I can bash every rotten tooth out of your filthy raider mouth, you Aussie kangaroo fucking son-of-a-cunt.”

There’s a slight pause before the raider gruffly asked: “The fuck’s a kangaroo?”

What a world, kangaroos not even a memory and this asshole someone still has a fucking Australian accent all the way in the goddamn US of A. “Don’t think on it too hard, shithead, you’ll break a blood vessel.” She crouched in front of Danse and looped his arms up over her shoulders, using about all the strength she had to pull his ragdoll ass up. It takes her leaning over to make sure he doesn’t topple right back so that she’s got one hand able to hold his arm steady and another to make sure she doesn’t jostle the rebar and her shitty makeshift tourniquet. She’d leave him here, but didn’t put it past Captain Kangaroo to put a bullet in him through the windows. “I’ll be in to put you out of your misery.”

“Cheeky bitch. I’m going to enjoy this.” Nice, he hauled out the sleazy voice. No doubt he was picturing doing all sorts of fun things to her. Let him have fun picturing that in his last moments, her current plan was to use all those mines...

Fuck. She was going to have to make a second trip back for her armory of mines. Goddamn, she wished she’d found a proper bag. Still, there was nothing more to do than to slowly move up the stairs, getting more and more winded as she continued on because of course she had to fall for this thick as fuck bastard. Goddamn his ass and thighs and his perfect chest. No man in the wasteland had any business being that well built. 

When she enters the next room, a gore soaked locker room, she scouted around for the cleanest looking area that somehow was the bathroom, before slowly and carefully lowering Danse down. There’s a bloodstained sleeping bag on the floor nearby and she checked it out, most of the blood was on the outside so she unzipped it and laid it out flat, laying him out flat on it and wrapping it around him as much she could. Anything to keep him from getting too cold.

He was still breathing. That was all she could ask for. “You’re going to be fine. I’m going to fix this, I’m going to go murder some raiders, I’m going to get you a doctor, and then you and I are gonna have a long conversation about how you don’t tell a girl you love her and then do your best to die.” Still, Vera strokes his cheek affectionately. He was an idiot, but he was her big idiot. 

Someone tries talking to her from an intercom but that’s pretty easily ignored. Captain Kangaroo’s in the center of the room and he yells when he spots her right back at the beginning, storming over to the windows. Vera just gave him a regal queens wave as she picked up the jacket containing the supplies she’d scavenged, hugging it tightly to her chest while she turned the queen’s wave into a one finger salute as she ascended the stairs. It was a lot easier without two hundred some pounds of boyfriend on her back.

Back in the horrible locker room from hell she finally pays attention to whomever’s trying to get her attention. Oh, it was the same jackass from the monorail, that was why he sounded familiar. Turned out that monorail-jackass was not a fan of Captain Kangaroo and would like nothing more than for her to beat the shit out of him. Vera assumed that was in fact a bald faced lie and the raider asshole wanted her to go out there with a squirt gun in her hand and die horribly at the fucking finish line.

Then again, it’d be a lot more funny to hit him with the squirt gun then make his life an unholy hell with landmines and grenades before beating that helmet off of his head and breaking out his teeth, so even if it was a trap it’d be amusing. A quick scouting of the room finally found a fucking bag beside a fresh corpse. Vera happily transferred her mines and grenades and the two remaining stims into the bag and slipped it over her shoulder. 

One last check on Danse, cupping his cheek and giving his lips a peck for good luck. There was a little blasted out wall that she poked her head in, finding a nuclear generator and liberating it of it’s power core. She sat it on Danse’s lap, suddenly loathe to leave. “Hey, baby. Here’s a core for the armor I’m about to liberate you until we get your set of T60 back.” She promised, throat suddenly tight. Danse doesn’t reply, because he’s doing an excellent job of being unconscious.

She entered into the little entry area where once upon a time she and Volya had stood and waited to get into the bumper cars. ( _‘Who cares if everyone else in line’s a kid, we’re gonna have fun!’ ‘I’m gonna bump you into every wall I see!’ ‘Not of I bump you first, bitch!’ and a scandalized mother had cupped her hands over her precious baby’s ears and hissed ‘language’, and Volya’d gotten that wild look in his eyes and-_ ) Inside the arena the raider boss called out to his raiders, got them hooting and hollering and calling for blood.

In the meantime, Vera checked herself out in the window glass. Damn, she looked horrible. Fuckin’ bug bites and bruises and blood all over. She idly pulled the zipper on her jumpsuit down a bit more, show off a bit more of those little titties. That’d get some stupid raider’s blood pumping, make a better show. That sounded like a whole fuckin’ mess of raiders out there, and while Vera was very full of herself and her prowess she knew that she probably couldn’t murder her way out of this situation. Maybe she’d have to play raider. Maybe she’d get to see Danse have to play raider-

Yeah, maybe she’d have to think of another plan.

The door in front of her opened and Vera strode out into the area to the sound of cheers and hoots and jeers. She blew a few dramatic kisses to the crowd, brandishing her little Thirst Zapper like she was the goddamn Nuka-Rocket girl. They liked that, her putting on a show. The jeers peter off and cheers and a few wolf whistles replace them.

“Aw, c’mon mister raider boss.” She called out across the arena. “How about you let little ol’ me hit you with my best shot.”

Overhead, the intercom bleats out what every raider has to be thinking: “Is that squirt gun?”

The Captain Overboss Kangaroo observes her and confirms that, indeed, the little vault dweller has an equally little squirt gun. He laughs loudly and spread his arms out wide. “C’mon, girlie, hit me with your best shot. Then I’ll hit you with my best shot.”

She strutted closer, every move she made meant to make sure she jiggled and wiggled in that vault suit as much as she could. Little and nonthreatening was the name of the game, and as she got closer it looked like Gage hadn’t been lying: Aussie-fuck was attached to the top of the arena with one of the old connectors from the bumpers. “Oh, I’ll hit you, baby.” She purred, and from the angle of his helmet it looked like he was looking right down the top of her opened vault suit. Perfect. Bet he was real distracted with all those disgusting thoughts of just how he could hurt her bad but leave her alive enough to fuck.

Vera raised her little squirt gun high into the air and fired it up into the electrical cage. There was a beautiful brilliant ark of light and the raider’s suit of armor sparked and he shuddered. For for a few beautiful moments the entire arena went dark, and in that moment Vera’s time had come. Even if Over-fuck Colter could hear the frag mines priming he couldn’t see where they were, and he sounded pretty fucking pissed in that armor. 

The arena’s power came back on but the armor didn’t get it’s charge back, and the idiot spotted her now standing at the far end of the arena. “Hey, Baby, you like my best shot?” She called out, posing with her squirt gun again. He roared and ran at her like an utter fucking idiot, not checking to see where she’d thrown down those landmines.

Spoiler alert: In a concentrated path in between her and him. They went off quickly, sending shrapnel into the legs and knees of his suit. It’s enough to make him stumble and more than enough to slow him down. “Can you believe that people just leave those mines laying around so I could pick them up?” She called out, dashing to the side.

With the damage done to his legs he was a whole hell of a lot slower than she was, and there was a lot of natural terrain to use to her advantage. On the flip side: She came into this fight injured and tired and all it would take was a few lucky shots to take her down. Eventually she’d have to take this fight into close quarters, but for now? For now, she had grenades and a few frag mines.

Any time the cage starts arcing she shoots it with her little dinky water pistol, causing a few seconds of blackouts and earning Colter a few more frag grenades and frag mines in his path. His armor’s looking all sorts of beat up, especially since Vera had helpfully shown him a design flaw with it. The dumb fuck had put a nice little shield in front of his face, probably to deflect bullets. That word well and good, but all it took was one good arm to lodge a grenade in there.

The first time she landed a successful one and got to watch that mouthy fucker fumbled and flail trying to get it out she nearly fell off of the car mountain she’d climbed on top off laughing at him. Her laughter’s contagious, raiders start picking up on it. She’s getting way more cheers than jeers now, there’s a steadily building chant of ‘Vaultie’ going out. It’s pissing the Overfuck off, which makes him more dangerous.

As the fight goes on she can feel her ass start to drag, knows that if she can’t end this soon he’ll win the war of attrition. So the next time she makes the lights go out she takes a chance, she darts in and with only the faint light of her pip-boy screen to guide her and wedges two grenades by his fusion core. Colter can hear her fucking around and spins, catching her hard with his gauntlet and sending her flying. When the lights come back on things don’t look good, she’s sprawled out on the ground and there’s new blood on her face. This time it’s her own, what a novel thing.

“Gonna make you wish I killed you, bitch. Chop your arms and legs off, have you tied to my bed with your little boyfriend’s head on the goddamn side table.” He snarled as he crossed towards her and Vera has no doubt that if this gamble doesn’t work out she’ll be lucky if she can swallow her own tongue and get out of this situation that way.

A smirk and a wiggling finger cover up any doubt that she has “Guess where I put the grenades this time!” She sang out and Colter stilled, arms trying to reach around back. Ha ha, he thought he’d gotten to her before she fucked his day up. The grenades go off, sending shrapnel directly into the fusion core. His suit locked up, as they’re wont to do when abruptly and traumatically losing power, and she sprung to her feet before launching herself into him and tipping him to his back.

It’s hard enough to move an empty frame without a core, let alone a fully armored suit. Without his weapon and on his back, the asshole was powerless. Vera stood up and looked out at her ‘adoring’ fans in the crowd. “All right, you filthy degenerates! Who wants to see me rip off this fucker’s helmet and shove a grenade down his fucking throat?” She called out, and some crazy fuckers in cowls and other crazy fuckers in face paint go completely nuts. Shaking the chain link, hooting and hollering. The fuckers in fancy suits do not go nuts, but they do seem interested. Two out of three wasn’t bad. “Then someone throw me a fucking crowbar or a tire iron and get ready for the fireworks!”

More than one comes down, and isn’t it funny how easily your men could turn on you? She’d joked with Preston about being a raider queen, but Colter here was a testament why it was always a better survival strategy to have people under you who liked you and believed in your cause. Preston-fucking-Garvey would never set her up to get killed, unlike Gage.

The chest piece popped off with some force and she made sure to smack the fuck out of the helmet before she popped that off too. Colter’s pretty dazed; she shoves the grenade in past his teeth before she settled in on his chest and smacked his face around. When his eyes focused on her Vera wiggled just her fingers at him. “Hey, Baby. Not the way you thought I’d be on top of you, huh?” She asked, watching with amusement as he tried to spit the grenade out. “Keep trying. It’s fun to watch to watch you struggle.”

He’s really struggling now, trying to get his arms up. “Look at him try, kids! Tell you what, Colter. You get those arms up to your face and pull that grenade off before it goes off and you earn the right to punish me in front of all your kids here.” Vera stood from his chest and pulled the pin, stepping back against the window where who she assumes is Porter Gage is waiting. Colter continues to struggle, and his hands manage to make it up to his chest before his head paints the nearby floor with his brains.

The assembled raiders go totally apeshit, cheering and chanting and shaking the cage. Vera strutted out and put one foot on the corpses’ chest and held her Thirst Zapper high up in the air. 

“Looks like we’ve got a new Overboss.” Gage called out, and between that title and the literal cheering she has aimed at her, there’s a split second that she wants this. Wants to just make the fucking world burn down. Wants to hurt everyone.

But then she remembers Danse, laying on the floor in that back bathroom and, fuck, this battle took way longer than she’d expected. Fuck. She walked back over to Gage, who’d opened the door so she could come in out of the arena. “Hey there.” She greeted, smiling real sweet at him. “So, know what would do me a world of good with this whole ‘bein’ a raider queen shit’? Not having my boyfriend bleed out. You all got a doctor?”

“Yeah, I’ll get her called up.” Gage drawled, looking Vera up and down. “Gotta say, surprised it wasn’t him in that area. Though, doubt a Brotherhood man would’ve been so inventive.” Gage stepped out and ordered some poor sap wearing a slave collar to go get Mackenzie. “He gonna be a problem?”

Oh, Danse would be a problem. She’d get him in his armor and take this place down painfully. “You kiddin? Know the only thing better than my grenade throwing arm? My dick sucking throat.” Gage let out a surprised chuckle at that. “I’ve got him wrapped around my finger so tight I could be like: ‘Babe, get me on the Prydwen so I can go blow it to fuck.’ And he’d be like ‘Of course, anything for you.’” Vera batted her eyelashes demurely. “Oh, Gage? We had our things taken at the station. His pretty suit of power armor, my supplies and my rifle. I want those back.”

“Sure, boss.” Gage said amicably, and a group of slaves came back with a ragged looking woman at their center. “Kenzie, follow our new Overboss back to your patient. Ya’ll take her to her new home after this. I’ll get you up to speed there.”

Vera didn’t bother saying goodbye, just strutted off back through the arena and the corpse of Cutler. Had to act like none of this was worth noticing, she was the Overboss now. Had to make a whole new goddamn personality. (How many did she have room for in her head?) “I got him stable, but he’s lost a whole shitton of blood. Pretty sure his artery got nicked, if not outright shot. Got a tourniquet on it that we’ll have to pull, and two stims when the bleeding slowed down.”

Mackenzie looks surprised when she speaks, checking the bag she’d brought with her. It was a nice bag, after having to deal with using a jacket for a bag Vera had a whole new appreciation for bags. “And you did the initial triage when you first entered the arena, correct? So around a half hour ago... He should have another hour to get him stable before we risk losing the leg.”

Danse is still breathing when they go to him, but he’s so fucking cold. She wanted to take his hands in her own, to cup them close to her mouth and breathe on them until he was warmed up. But that wasn’t a very Overboss thing to do. What was an Overboss thing to do was to stalk around like she wasn’t injured herself, to glare at the slaves in collars and to loom over Mackenzie as she worked. Had to act like a typical overprotective straight girl protecting her garbage man. ( _Deacon’s voice echos in her mind: ‘This is my pile of garbage, asshole’. God bless that man, because someone had to._ ) “So how’d I do.” Vera asked as she loomed as best she could.

“Honestly? Not too bad. We’ll have to get him set up in your quarters, get some blood into him and get him warm. If you injected two stims about a half hour ago then they should be taking care of accelerating the healing process.” Mackenzie further secured the rebar against his leg, making sure nothing was moving before gesturing for the other slaves to pick him up. It takes about all four of them gripping corners of the sleeping bag to haul him out carefully. “After I’m done getting him stable I’ll take a look at you, Overboss.”

“Well, duh.” She drawled as she stalked after the men carrying her man, not paying the doctor any bit of mind. Out of the arena they go, and Vera’s hoping she manages to cover up her stumbling feet as just being unused to the sunlight. One hand comes up to cover her eyes against the sun, her other hand grasps the wall. It isn’t the sunlight that disorientates her, for one moment things aren’t run down and decrepit, they’re new and shiny and-

( _It’d been Genny who’d insisted on the trip and how could Vera say no? Papa for once hadn’t cared what they did, he’d came with them to talk to Bradburton and had quickly left them alone. Genny’d been radiant once Papa left, bright and beaming and just so enamored with everything. “This place,” He’d said, and it didn’t matter how long he lived in America the tinges of his native accent always leaked through into his English. “I love it. I must ride every ride.”_ )

( _Volya had just laughed. “And I want to eat my weight in cotton candy and throw up in that fountain.”_ )

“Overboss?” Mackenzie called and Vera straightened, rubbing her eyes. Yeah, don’t break down into tears because you were an emotional wreck and one of the many things this irradiated wasteland didn’t have was anxiety medication. “You all right?”

“Too damn bright.” Vera said briskly, striding after her prone boyfriend. They lead her through Nuka-Town USA, past the Parlor ( _“Ah, a dinner theater! We must go!” “S’long as I can get some fuggin’ cotton candy brother.” God, Vera couldn’t even remember why he’d been so fucking obsessed with cotton candy._ ) and around the weeds filled fountain to the Fizztop Grille. It’d had such a nice view before the war.

( _Vera’d won the argument about where to have dinner by pointing out the fountain and the wonderful view. There’d been a cotton candy stand outside and Volya had made it through six boxes before throwing up into the fountain._ )

God, she’s so tired.

They take the little raider lift up to the grille, which has been turned into a horribly decorated makeshift raider house with a disgusting bed. “So, Gage. Question.” He looked to her warily, eyeing the nearby slaves. “That bed is hella gross, Gage. What’s an Overboss gotta do to get one less fuckin’ gross.”

Gage snorted. “S’pose we can get you one less... Covered in your predecessors fluids.” Gross. Gross. So fucking gross, now she was picturing it.

The slaves hadn’t taken Danse to that disgusting bed, they’d went through a set of double doors at the back. “Good, I got standards. They aren’t too high, but I am not putting my ass on that gross ass bed. Gonna get ass crabs.” That earned her another amused snort from Gage. “I’m gonna go watch them, we can talk it out later. All right?”

“We waited a year for a better Overboss, I kin wait a few more hours to see if you’re up to snuff.” Gage drawled, heading to the lift and hopefully to track her down a less disgusting bed. Vera stalked through the back portion of the grill and found the Doctor working on Danse on a small bed in the back of the old inner dining area. It was filled with power armor frames and work benches and Danse would get a kick out of it for sure when he woke up, moreso if Gage made good on his promise to get his armor back.

“I want to give the stims as much of a chance to work as I can. Do you have the time?” When Vera glances at her pip-boy and reported the time the doctor nodded. “Please let me know when another twenty minutes have passed, I’ll check the wound and see how well it’s knit before removing the tourniquet. Very resourceful work, by the way.”

Vera shrugged like it wasn’t no big thing, like she hadn’t been losing her mind, like- Like Danse’ blood wasn’t still on her fucking face. “Ya’ll got running water in this shithole?” She drawled in an unflattering imitation of Gage’s accent. Mackenzie gestures her towards the bathrooms where the water’s cold but enough to get her clean-ish.

Back out in the old dining area now power-armor-workshop-with-a-bed area Mackenzie’s doing her best to get Danse warmed up and hooking up a bag of blood to an IV stand. Vera sat in one of the old chairs and leaned back and-

( _The real reason she’d insisted on coming to the Grille showed up before their appetizers even gets there. Papa strode in with Mama on his arm, and a bottle of Nuka dark clutched in her hand. She’s already drunk, fantastic. Vera watched Genny’s joyful face go blank, watched the cheerful mania in Volya’s eyes turn to panic, and she knows a sweet thoughtless smile spreads on her own face._ )

( _Papa would have hated the theater, dinner theater was low class garbage pretending to be better than what it was. At least you had to be someone to get to dine in Bradburton’s suite. He’d sat down and they’d called out in unison: “Hello, Papa.” Just like he liked to hear, little lifeless dolls._ )

Fuck. She snapped back to the present and glared about before looking to her Pip-boy. “You got about two minutes, Doc.” Vera warned and the doctor nodded, pulling blankets back from Danse. She’d finished Vera’s earlier job of getting the pant leg off so that she could have a clear view of the wound. Once the makeshift bandages were off she hemmed and hawed before finally deciding on a course of action.

“Any damage to the artery was taken care of by the Stims. I’ll pack the wound with gauze and be by to change it daily.” Mackenzie explained as she worked. Once the wound was packed and bandaged she took off the tourniquet. Poor Danse would have one hell of a bruise.

The doctor gives him a once over after that, putting antibiotics on the roach bites and putting a line of stitches in his shoulder from where a graze had been deeper than expected. Mackenzie gave Vera a list of instructions on how to care for him and how to help his recovery.

Vera gets her own wounds checked after that and the doctor let herself out. Apparently as the only doctor she got a bit more freedom than the other slaves were afforded. That left Vera alone with her man, her thoughts, and her memories.

When she was sure that Danse was resting easy she scouted the area, heading back out into the Overboss’ quarters. She found an old set of jeans and a nuka cola shirt in one drawer that looked close to her size. Without a care she stripped right there, tossing her much abused vault suit to one side before shimmying into the pants and tugging the shirt over her head.

“Givin’ me a show, Boss?” Gage called, because of course he was there.

A sigh is the only response he gets initially before Vera can school her face into a smirk. “I dunno, Gage. You get me a less shitty bed, my gun, and my man’s armor?”

“Well, I got you one of the three, and your other two will be here by mornin’.” Gage stepped back and gestured towards the bedroom, where the old pre-war matress had been replaced by one clearly homemade and stuffed with something. Whatever, it was less likely to have fuckin’ ass crabs.

Well, that was progress. Vera also wasn’t above exploiting what feminine charms she had left to get what she wanted. “You want a show?”

“Only show I wanna see from you is you finishin’ our plan here.” Gage grinned, eye dipping down to look at her. “Though your titties are damn fine.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls that murder your previous boss. Help me get him moved in here.” Vera lead the way back to where Danse had been treated in, and Gage gave support on the wounded side while Vera supported the other side.

Gage grunted as they maneuvered Danse’ unconscious form up onto the bed. “Whoo-Damn, Boss. You like ‘em big. Should send you over to see Mason first if this is the kinda man who turns your crank.”

“I doubt he’d have as nice of thighs or an ass. I’d kill a bitch over this piece of ass.” It’s hard to keep an affectionate smile off her face. Overboss Vera likes Danse, but more in a ‘this is mine no one else can have it way’ as opposed to real Vera’s ‘I think this might be love, but how the fuck do I know what love feels like’ way.

Gage gestured her towards one of the booths that overlooked Nuka-World, and there’s a bowl of something that looks surprisingly not horrifying setting on the table beside- Mother fucking Nuka-Grape. Vera hadn’t seen any since she’d been defrosted and has assumed the variant just wasn’t in supply enough to survive the war. Apparently it was still in supply here. “Got you somethin’ easy from the cafe. Good job keepin’ a strong face in front of the raiders, they can smell weakness a mile away.”

It appeared Mister Gage was smarter than he looked, but with that stupid eye-patch and those bigass ears that wouldn’t be hard. “I’m not stupid, Gage.” It’s fucking chicken noodle soup, with what looks to be passable cornbread on the side. And it’s good, too. She’s not going to break down over chicken noodle soup, but it’s a close fucking thing. “S’been a real long day. They got any nuka surplus clothes that’ll fit my man there?”

“I’ll hook you up. Surprised you ain’t puttin’ him in booty shorts and prancin’ him around if his ass is as fine as you claim it to be.” Gage drifted towards the elevator.

Vera abandoned her soup for just a moment so that she could turn to glare at him. “Fuck no, that’s mine. Don’t want nobody lookin’ at that!” Her indignant reply made Gage laugh as the elevator went down.

After the soup’s gone and her nuka-grape drained (It didn’t taste the same, but nothing does) she crawled onto the bed and under the covers, kicking off her jeans and cuddling up to Danse’s side. He felt warmer now, no long ice cold under her touch. Breathing a bit easier, maybe. Still, she put her hand against the pulse on his throat and left it there.

They’d made it through the gauntlet. The first thing she was going to say to him when he woke up was ‘I told you so’.


	14. Raiders gonna raid, Liars gonna lie.

Waking up at all is a surprise, though the pain he feels is enough to make him want to go right back into unconsciousness. His right thigh was incredibly sore, his face burned, his lungs ached. With a groan he sat up slightly, just enough to try and scope out the area. What he sees makes him think that he must be dreaming, he’s in a bedroom. He tried to swing his legs off the bed but the sudden movement is not in the cards for his right one. Danse went prone with a hiss.

There’s footsteps somewhere off in the room, and Vera rounds the corner quickly. She’s bruised and battered, wearing a loose fitting Nuka-Cola shirt and a pair of jeans. Despite everything, she’s so beautiful to him because she’s alive and well. Her eyes still sparkle and she looks so happy to see him awake. “You look terrible.” He blurted, brain thinking of so many things to say and unable to settle one single good thing.

“You’re one to talk, asshole.” But she crosses the distance to the bed and crawls on it and into his lap, so careful not to put weight on his right leg. Her lips grazed gently over his face, dusting his cheeks and nose with kisses. “Don’t you do that to me again. Don’t you try dyin’ on me.”

Danse cupped her face between his hands and took a good, long moment to just look at her. “I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for taking care of me.” He loves the way her eyes go soft at him, how she smiles that rare gentle smile and touched the back of his hand. “What happened?”

“Well, it’s a long story. The short of it is I triage’d you and entered a death arena, killed the raider boss with copious grenades and land mines, and I’m the raider Overboss of three gangs totaling roughly five hundred raiders now.” Vera looked proud of herself, grinning at the memory of whatever chaos she’d wrought while he was unconscious.

Wait. What? “Overboss?” He questioned, for a moment amusing that he’d just overheard wrong. He was recovering from trauma, after all.

“Yeah, it’s... A long story that I’d like to talk to you about outside of the walls with fewer ears around. So you need to get better.” Vera wrapped her arms around him and they sat like that for some time. Danse rubbed little circles on her back, earning a pleased sigh in return.

They sit like that, content to hold and be held, until the sound of a raider lift echos outside. Vera grumbled and pulled away, pressing one last kiss against Danse’ forehead. She walked around the makeshift walls to the bedroom and disappeared from his sight. “Gage, you better have some good news for me.” Her voice has gone flat and commanding, somewhat similar to when she would order Minutemen troops around but with less compassion.

“Sure do, Boss.” A somewhat familiar voice called out to her. “Here she is.”

An exaggerated happy sigh came from Vera as she accepted whatever Gage offered. “Well, you’re at two out of three. Where’s my man’s armor?”

“Havin’ it brought up by the men what met you at the station. Figured you’d like to make sure they fall in line.” The raider drawled and Danse heard him pacing around. “Colter’s armor already got dragged in back, figured he’d have fun with it.”

Vera laughed, low and sultry. “Trying to suck up to him too, huh?”

“Figured I might as well, if he’s on your good side.” Gage poked his head over the little divider wall and nodded at Danse. He was a wiry and dirty raider, but his remaining eye was a tad too keen looking. “Kenzie’s got full run of the place on account of her being our only doctor, so she’ll be able to get up to him.”

“Good. Okay, Gage. Walk me through what I need to do.” Vera stepped further away and Gage followed after, leaving Danse’ sight. It did leave him in a good position to listen in as Gage explained the plan for his ‘Overboss’, meeting with the other gang leaders.

“Now, you already did one hell of a job gettin’ people on your side with your performance there. Killed Colter like it were an art. But the bosses don’t bow down too easy. Nisha’s a psychopath, promise her blood and she’ll fall in line. Mags and William want to make as many caps as possible. And Mason? Hell, he’s practically an animal. You’re good at shows of force, you’ll manage.” Gage lit up a cigarette, the scent filled the room. “I’d shy off from goin’ outside off the city here till you get things straight with the bosses. Just in case.”

“Fair. And I figure I gotta do this now, lest I look weak- Vic you lay your ass right back down, I can hear you trying to get up.” Vera scolded with a sudden possessive rage as Danse shifted on the bed, trying again to get his legs off. “You are not getting up and following me around!”

“If you get me at least an armor frame I can assist without risking additional trauma.” Danse argued, managing to get both feet flat on the ground. Okay. He just had to stand and put weight on his one leg. That was quickly looking less and less likely to happen.

He heard Vera sigh and could picture her crossing her arms and sassily staring at him. “You can’t get out of bed, can you? Just lay down and let me take care of things.” Her voice goes softer and more cajoling as she returns to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Babe, c’mon. Let me take care of you. I can’t stand it if you’re hurt. Give yourself a few days of downtime and you’ll be right out there with me again.”

Vera crossed to the bed and gently pushed his chest, guiding him back down to lay flat. Danse gripped her hand and just stared at her with worry. “I worry about what will happen if I’m not there.” He said softly, not wanting his words to carry too far. That raider had no right to overhear them. “I wasn’t there to protect you in that fight.”

She cupped his face and kissed the tip of his nose. “You’ve been there for me in other fights. This time I was there to protect you, like I always will be. But just rest and get better, I never feel safer than when you’re with me.

As always, she gets her way. Danse reclined fully and sighed as Vera helped swing his legs back on the bed. “Be careful.” He urged and Vera just gave him a sassy wink.

“I always am.” She rose and disappeared from his line of sight. “If anyone treats you bad, you tell me Babe.” All sweetness and affection left her voice, she sounds cold as the grave. “I’ll take care of it. Now, Gage, those raiders from the transit station here yet?”

“Sure are, Boss. C’mon.” Gage’s footsteps headed away and a door opened, Vera following after him and it clicked shut after her.

She’d be fine. He had to remind himself that constantly, that after he’d fallen she’d taken care of him and killed her way out of the situation they’d found themselves in. Danse sighed and closed his eyes. Before he could relax back into sleep, however, there were a pair of shots from the back of the building and by now Danse could recognize The Last Minute’s sound clearly.

She’d be fine.

Sometime later he jerks awake at the sound of footsteps near the bed. A downtrodden woman in a slave collar looks surprised at his sudden awakening but she smiles soon after. “You’re awake, good.” She sat her bag down beside the bed and gestured at his leg. “I need to check up on how that’s looking.”

“Of course.” Danse lay as still as he could and allowed her to inspect his leg. “Were you the one who treated me?”

The doctor smiled up at him, though she looked preoccupied with his leg. “Once the new Overboss was crowned. She did most of the initial doctoring on you. Did a pretty good job.” She changed his bandages and pulled the blanket back over his lap. “My name’s Mackenzie and I’m the doctor around Nuka-World. So, since you’re her man, what kind of a woman is our new Overboss?”

Danse eyed Mackenzie and thought about how he should answer that question Knowing Vera she was already talking her way out of every problem she came across here, making herself change to suit the situation. He’d noticed that she acted especially possessive of him and decided to run with that. “Territorial and vengeful.” He said shortly.

“Oh, I- hah, I wasn’t sniffing around. I’m a doctor, I’m just here to make sure you don’t die and her take us all with you.” Mackenzie held her hands up and dropped that line of conversation quickly. “I’m going to recommend dosing you with enough Med-X to keep you drowsy so you have time to recuperate. A few days will be enough.”

Danse just grunted irritably; he hated taking Med-X. His sleep was even more plagued with nightmares under it’s influence. “It better just be Med-X.” He growled, knowing that he was a fool to accept anything from raiders or their slaves.

“It is, don’t worry. You didn’t see what she did to Colter but we did.” Mackenzie injected him with a syringe and left him be after scribbling a note and laying it against the headboard. “I don’t want to be on anyone’s bad side that’d do that.”

_He dreams of a cold and dark place, of being underground with the scent of stale air and stagnant water. The corridors are long and empty, he hears the occasional hiss of radroaches or escaping freon. Dream Danse knows he’s looking for something as he strides down the halls purposefully. A door opens in front of him and he walks between cryogenic pods standing upright and derelict, their inhabitants long dead._

_His target is in the farthest pod from the door, eyes open and eternally staring through the frosted glass. He checks the status of the pod and finds it to be acceptable, making a note of that. Her eyes seem to watch him walk away though he knows that she’s been frozen for years and she’ll be frozen for many more until she’s needed. Dream-Danse starts to speak, something about sevens, but a woman’s voice drowned out his own._

“-Not gonna let 'em take your will to live, because they've taken enough and you've given them all you can give. And luck won't save them tonight. They've given you a reason to fight.” Danse wakes to the soft sound of Vera singing under her breath from nearby. He raises himself up onto his elbows and tried to put the odd dream out of his mind: Med-X dreams were always something about him being underground and he hated them. “Oh, hey there sleepy-head.”

Danse looks up to find her at the foot of the bed, giving him a little lopsided smile. “Look who’s finally up. How you feeling?” He thinks for a few minutes before just grunting and flopping back down against the bed; he felt nauseated and groggy and stiff. Vera chuckled softly and sat beside him, stroking his face. “Poor baby. That Med-X knocked you on your ass pretty hard.”

“That’s why I try not to take it.” Vera had a few more bruises than the last time he’d seen her, and he could see the occasional swatch of multicolored paint on her skin and clothes. “What have you been up to?” Danse reached up to grab the hand caressing his face and held it there, thumb stroking along her wrist.

“Oh, this and that. Working on some plans.” She smiled down at him and looked thoughtful. “As soon as I can get you on your feet safely I’ll feel better.”

He sat up again and carefully swung his legs off the bed and Vera rose to support him as he stood. “It’s still weaker and likely will be for some time, but my armor will give the necessary support in combat.” He said, stripping off the remnants of his jumpsuit. Vera pulled a pair of jeans and a Nuka-World shirt from a chest at the foot of the bed and helped him dress, giving him the occasional kiss here or there as she did, ending with a kiss to his lips.

“Good, and about your armor... I got it recovered, it’ll need some work. But I was thinking...” Her voice dropped low and she leaned in close. “It might look a little better if you could pull some parts from the old Overboss’ armor. Look a little more raider-ey.”

Danse looked down at her and said in the flattest tone he could manage: “You want me to wear raider power armor. Armor that is frequently put together from scuttled sets and just as frequently not working or irradiated. You want me to do this while I have a perfectly good set of armor that I’ve maintained personally.”

“I’m not asking you to wear his frame, Danse. I did quite a lot of damage to that, actually, heh.” Vera looked proud of herself and one of these days he’d have to get the full story out of her. “Just swap out some of the plates, make yourself look like a brother-turned-raider. If we can convince them we’ve both gone native it’ll go a long way into getting them to trust us and we can burn them from the inside out.”

It made sense and sounded like a plan Vera would come up with, but still. “I’m not good at lying.”

That made her grin up at him as she let him lean on her as they moved towards the back of the grille. “Oh, I know, baby. I am, so you just follow my lead and we’ll be fine. Uh, also. I’m sorry. I got your armor back as soon as I could, but...”

“But what?” Danse asked as they entered into a large open back room and he saw exactly what she meant. Mutely he stepped away from her and towards his armor, armor that he’d always done his best to keep clean and well cared for, armor that had protected himself through countless firefights, armor that now was marred by gaudy paint swatches and feathers. Danse pressed his lips together tightly and scraped his finger nail against the paint. “Outstanding.”

While he took in the state of his armor Vera had started to look around the room. “Where did that little fucker go, I told him to stay in here- Hey, Rat!” Her voice went from quiet and contemplating to loud and commanding and there was a sudden crashing come from a side room and a thin raider with closely cropped hair and gaudy clothes stumbled out.

“Miss Overboss, ma’am.” Rat gave her a little pathetic salute after he came to a stop in front of her. He was barely taller than she was and about as thin and was well deserving of the name she’d called him.

Vera swept her hand back towards Danse. “This is my man. You’re gonna do whatever the fuck he says. He’s in charge of your life now.” She roughly shoved Rat towards Danse and his desecrated armor. “Babe, I’m meeting up with the Operators and launching an attack on the old bottling plant. Get your armor in order for when I come back.”

That was all the goodbye he got before she strode out, no further explaining of her plan nor any kind touches. Danse found himself oddly let down, he’d started to get use to her affection. Well, he was a grown man, he could deal with her not being affectionate. “So, ‘Rat’. Do you have any idea how to maintenance power armor?”

“Uhhhhhhh?” Rat gave a little helpless grin and shrugged his shoulders. Outstanding. “I just paint stuff, man.”

Breathe. Just breathe, Danse. “You’re the one who painted my armor?”

“Yeah, Todd wanted to cover up your old paint job but, like, man got no appreciation of the artistic style. Was just like ‘Throw some paint and feathers on it!’ like a stupid fuck.” Rat shook his head at Danse’ armor. “Where’s the fun in that? But Todd was like, huge and shit. So I did what he wanted. Didn’t even put any enamel on it so it’ll just be a whole lot of scrubbin’, which I’m gonna be doin?”

“You are correct.” Danse sighed and looked at the second set of power armor in the room, a modified raider set that had all sorts of damage and blood on it. “Was this the previous Overboss’ armor?”

Rat’s face lit up and he nodded, scrambling over to it and gesturing wildly. “Oh, yeah, Colter had it all souped up but new Overboss fucked his life up with grenades and mines before she blew his head to fuck.” Rat said eagerly, voice squeaking as he pointed out the damage to the legs of the armor. “You want me to get you a pryin’ bar so you can take it apart? I think she, uh... ...Uh I don’t know the word, but it’s a fancy word for sayin’ she really fucked it up.”

The back of the armor was destroyed, it’d been manually cracked open after the core had went off. “Scuttled.” He supplied and Rat nodded.

“Yeah, that! She got him with some grenades and fucked him up bad.” Rat’s dirty face was bright with joy at the memory. “He was a lazy asshole. New Boss seems, I dunno. Crazy but fair? I said I’d painted the armor and she let me live ‘cause she said she liked it when people admit to fuckin’ up.”

God, this kid talked a lot. Ugh. “Right. Get me a prybar and get to work on cleaning my armor up.” Rat nodded and dashed off to do as he was told. Danse ensured that the armor was well secured on it’s frame before he started to take out all his frustrations on it. Rat had initially been chatty but after a few good swings on the armor for no noticeable purpose he took the hint and shut up.

There were pieces he could use from the armor, the arms were in decent shape and the helmet was serviceable barring a few dents he could pop out. The chest was a near total loss with the damage it’d sustained from the core leak, and the legs were mangled. He might be able to modify the front of the chest and layer it over his own armor and it might even look more like a typical raider set that way. The real question was: Did he want to look like garbage?

If he was going to be in this for a long con, then yes. He had to look like garbage. With a grimace Danse limped over to the armor that Rat was scrubbing and pulled off the arm plates and handed them down to Rat. That started up another set of chattering from the young man (“Aw man this is a lot easier to clean now!”) that Danse mostly tried to ignore as he fitted his frame with the raider plates.

To give Rat an easier time with cleaning he removed all the plates from his armor frame and laid them out. The raider carefully picked each plate up and sat it on an individual table to work on. “Thanks for not shootin me, man.” Rat said as he started to scrub at paint.

“I still might. Just didn’t want to scrub that paint.” Danse eyed the dents in the helmet before reaching in and popping the metal out with his bare hands. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d at least cover his head.

Rat made a little strangled noise and Danse looked up to find the raider watching him. “You’re like, fuckin’ crazy strong.” He said in awe, making Danse shrug. He wasn’t overly strong, the metal wasn’t sound. Let the raider think what he wanted.

The raider disappeared after a while and came back with two plates full of some kind of meat and mashed tubers. Danse sat at a mostly free table and ate while Rat crouched behind his power armor frame and wolfed his food down as quickly as he could, eyes darting back and forth to watch for threats. It reminded Danse of before the Brotherhood, before Cutler, of being a young man on his own with no one to watch his back. There were people out there who would kill you for looking at them wrong, let alone if you had food.

“How’d you fall in with these raiders?” It might’ve been that sudden ping of empathy, of remembering being alone and hungry and afraid, that made Danse ask the question. God knew he didn’t actually care about the raider or feel the need for polite conversation. Once food was had he went back to work, pulling a chair up to give his leg a chance to rest.

Rat focused on cleaning the armor and didn’t look up. “My brother. Thought he could take on the whole world. He was all I had so I followed, kinda kept my head low and just worked for scraps. Thought he could take on the Alpha, and, well, that didn’t work out for him.” He frowned and picked up one of the arm plates, using both arms and barely able to hold it into the light. “So, I, uh. If you need like, I dunno, somebody to just clean up around here or paint or whatever, I don’t got no loyalty to Mason and I don’t take up much space.”

Danse rubbed his forehead and sighed resignedly. “You can stay. Just keep out of Vera’s way.”

“Thanks, man.” Rat gave a wide grin and a thumbs up, and Danse hoped he hadn’t given a crazy raider carte blanche to murder them in their sleep. There was still a part of himself that wanted to make the world a better place, even if it had to be one person at a time.

They worked in mostly silence after that, Rat would occasionally start to rapidly speak as if the sound of silence drove him mad. However, thanks to Rat’s blathering Danse was picking up a lot of information about the gangs without having to ask a question. Vera’d be happy about that at least.

The ‘Overboss’ doesn’t return that night and Danse spends the night by himself, tossing and turning and kept awake by both old thoughts and new screams coming from outside. When he gave up on sleep and returned back to the little workshop he found Rat asleep in a corner of the kitchen, shirt off and pillowed below his head. The raider was a mess of scars and had a tightly bandaged chest. Whatever wound he had hadn’t stopped him from talking constantly, so it couldn’t be too bad.

“I’m reasonably sure there’s a bed in the workshop, Rat.” Danse said, opening the cabinets to see what kind of a stock the previous Overboss had. Rat jerked upright and rubbed one hand quickly down his face to wipe off drool. He went from dead asleep to violently awake in less time than it took to tell, pulling the shirt back over his head and joining Danse at the cabinets.

“Ah, nah, beds are for people. Rats sleep on the floor, man. Hey, lemmie get this.” Rat climbed up on the counter and popped a cabinet open, pushing things around. “I’ll make you breakfast if I get to eat too, deal?”

“Deal.” Danse watched Rat scurry around the kitchen, pulling boxes out and mumbling to himself before tiring of that and returning to work on the armor. After a while Rat returned with plates of food that looked better than they had any right to being that they were cobbled together from pre-war surplus. “Good use of supplies. It doesn’t look horrible.”

Rat was already tearing into his plate, checking the exits for possible threats. “Yeah, learned to make do.” He licked the plate clean when he was finished and waited until Danse was done with his food before taking both plates into the kitchen and cleaning things up in there. The raider seemed to be trying to stay as far out of his way as possible, hovering around the outskirts of the room now that his job of paint cleanup was done.

“Help me with this.” Danse ordered and Rat sprang into action, helping Danse lift the old Overboss’ chest armor to a table. He got out the wielding torch (The previous Overboss had been big into working on his armor and kept his tools in good shape, thankfully.) and started in on modifications. He could put a few temporary wields into his own chest peice and layer this one over it, hiding the Brotherhood insignia from prying eyes.

Rat didn’t seem too interested in learning about power armor but was happy to give a hand when needed. He wasn’t too strong but he was enthusiastic, likely to ensure he had a quiet place to sleep and food. He also kept an ear out for trouble, hissing to Danse that someone was coming before ducking under the cot that he refused to sleep on. Danse stared after him for a moment before he heard the elevator ding.

There was his girl, strolling out between two raiders and looking like the cat who got the cream. Gage walks to her right and a female raider dressed surprisingly neatly is at her left. “So, two down and three to go. I know you want to keep expanding, Mags, but I’ve got to humor the Pack or else I risk having war break out. And while I’m not against going from three to two, if we try to go from three to one then we’ll be outnumbered and it’ll turn into a bloodbath.”

“Sensible.” Mags sighed and rolled her eyes. “Having the bottling plant under our control will have to do for now. And- Oh.” Her eyebrows raised just a fraction at the sight of him. “Back on his feet.”

Vera stepped ahead of them and strode across the room towards him. Danse had time to take in a few things (new scrapes and burns and he got a whiff of a scent that was somewhere between sugary sweet cola and fish) before she’s pulling him down and giving him a claiming kiss. “There he is. And look at what you’ve done!” She pulled from him and shot an admiring look at the armor, giving him an affectionate pat on the ass.

“I’ll be ready to accompany you shortly.” Danse agreed, looking back to the armor while trying to slide over a bit and hide her from the raiders. “I need to do a few more modifications to ensure proper calibrations to the knee joints.”

Vera slipped around him, not letting him box her in. “Good. You would’ve loved today. Mirelurk queen.” She grinned up at him wildly and he remembered that grin post recovering the Castle. God, it seemed like ages ago.

“Another one?” He said with his most disproving glare and Vera laughed, giving his ass another pat.

She turned back to the raiders and moved away from him and he wants to pull her back, away from them and to his side. He doesn’t, just watches her go. “Told you, Mags, that wasn’t my first rodeo.” Vera waggled her fingers at him and lead the raiders out to her bedroom. “I’ve got some thing to finish but don’t stay out too late.”

Out she went. Rat crawled out from under the bed and looked up at him, giving him a thumbs up. “Good job not getting eaten by Mags. She pretends to be all civil and shit but she’s still crazy.” Rat drifted a bit closer to him and twined his fingers together anxiously. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Just get this place clean.” Danse still glowered towards the Overboss’ quarters. From time to time he could hear an explosion followed by laughter come from that area and knew that Vera was schmoozing it up. It shouldn’t infuriate him like it does, he knows she’s just playing the long game. But still, he doesn’t like the idea of her being alone with those types of people.

Mags leaves first, giving Danse a long look over and a smile. She doesn’t say anything, just looks superior and haughty as she drifts past. Gage doesn’t leave until much later and is drunk when he does so. Danse sighed and looked over to Rat, gesturing towards the cot. “Don’t let me find you on the floor again.” He growled, leaving the workshop and heading towards the bedroom.

Vera’s got her back to him when he entered, leaning out of a broken window. The entire area reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, he steps over a few empty bottles on his way to her. As he approaches Vera she rummages around in a box at her side, pulling out a grenade and lobbing it into the fountain. It goes off and she cackled, from outside there are several unhappy shouts.

“What’re you doing?” He asked as he came up on her, looking out. It’s a grotesque sight, there’s several dead raiders in the fountain and several more still alive but tied up. Apparently the three of them had been having their fun tossing grenades out.

Vera turned when he spoke and stared up at him dreamily, under some kind of influence. “Hey, baby.” She spoke around the cigarette in her mouth, lazily throwing her arms up around his neck. “Just havin’ some fun. Lil’ shits did somethin’ to piss off their bosses so I’ve been playin’.”

She wasn’t drunk, he’d seen her drunk and she didn’t turn oddly boneless like she was. Danse plucked the cigarette out of her mouth and extinguished it on the tray, guiding her away from the window and the grenades. Vera protested a bit, but soon busied herself trying to pull his shirt off. “Vera.” He tried to sound as disapproving as he could and it went right over her head.

“C’mon, lemmie just... Yeah.” When it was clear he wasn’t going to let her strip his shirt off she had to make do slipping both hands under it and caressing his chest. “Mmmm.”

He squinted down at her blissful face and realized exactly what her issue was. “Vera, are you high?” There’d been jet inhalers on the table beside the ashtray and he’d initially assumed it was from Gage, but that would explain her odd behavior.

“Maybe. Juuuust a little.” She pulled one hand out from under his shirt and squinted at it, holding her thumb and forefinger a minuscule distance from each other. “Just a lil. Just enough t’take the edge off, calm me down.” Vera leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, the hand outside of his shirt gripped the material. “Feel like m’goin crazy, Danse.”

With how her life had changed from the it’s simple pre-war state Danse wasn’t surprised that she was nearing a breakdown, but it was still very unfortunate that it seemed to be happening at a moment where she needed to be at her sharpest. “I’m here.” He tipped her chin up so he could look at her, so he could kiss her forehead and watch her eyes close with bliss. “I’ve got your back.”

“I know.” She smiles up at him with her eyes still closed. Her lower lip started to tremble and no matter how hard she screwed her eyes shut tears still started to leak from them. “I know, I know.”

Danse shushed her softly and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. His careful touch just brought more tears out, and the only thing he can think to do is start to back towards the bed. Down they went, Vera coming to rest against his chest as he landed on his back. His plan worked because as soon as they were flat on the bed she laughed, light and airy and without a care in the world, one hand coming up to cup his face. “Gonna fuck this up.” She said softly, hands slipping down to stroke his side.

His throat goes dry at that: she sounds so sad and certain. “We’ll work it out.” Danse promised, kissing the top of her head. She just hummed and drifted off, leaving him awake to think.

She wakes up early in the morning, crawling off of him and leaving him alone in bed to stare at the ceiling. He hears her clothes hit the floor and she heads towards the back. Shortly after he hears some shouting come from the back room and directly after Vera comes storming back in, muttering about Rats and finding herself some clothes. Looked like she hadn’t realized Rat was still in the building.

That was confirmed when he went to the back a little later to collect his power armor. Rat looked mortified, staring at the ground and twining his fingers together. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to see.” The kid was shaking like he expected Danse to take a swipe at him. Probably what a raider would do.

Danse shook his head and opened his armor. “The first thing I learned being with her is that she is her own creature and no one is responsible for what she does.” He said with a roll of his eyes. With the raider adornments his armor felt bulky and overbalanced in a way that it hadn’t since he first got into his armor years ago.

Vera’s garbed herself in raider gear and awaited him outside, leading him north after he exits the grille. “So today we’re focusing on the Safari Adventure section of the park. We’re going to meet a group of pack raiders there and clear it out.”

Now that they were past the raiders and by themselves Danse took the opportunity to question her actions. “Why are we wasting time claiming areas of the park for raider?” He asked softly, still not wanting his voice to carry.

“There’s about five hundred raiders in Nuka World with three different factions.” Vera explained as they walked. “There are two of us. My initial plan is to try and get as many killed re-taking parts of the park, then turn two of them against one and pit the surviving factions against one another before trying to bring in assistance. Otherwise this is going to be a gigantic mess and a death pit.”

It made sense, divide and conquer. Still, he couldn’t help but scowl as they walked up on the section of the park labeled Safari Adventure and found a group of ten or so Pack raiders in their garish clothes. They were lead by a tall, broad ginger with bold face paint. “Overboss.”

“Alpha.” Vera smiled over at him slightly as she walked past. “Surprised you came out on the hunt.”

“Let my guys have all the fun? Nah. ‘Sides, I wanna see you in action.” Mason purred and watched her through hooded eyes. Vera just smirked up at him.

“Try to keep up.” She said airily as she walked past. Danse shadowed her and the two men stared each other down. Mason looked Danse up and down and clearly thought he could take him on, power armor or no. Rabid dogs would frequently attack no matter how they were outgunned.

Two steps into the Safari and something huge roars and runs into the group, tearing it’s way bloodily through three pack members. Mason nimbly jumped backwards and Danse started firing at the large creature. It looked to be some kind of Deathclaw mutation. The Pack scattered outwards with Mason barking orders at them. “Boost me, Babe!” Vera called out, trying to climb up on top of one of the overgrown hedge mazes. He scooped her up and bodily tossed her up to a vantage point so she could start taking shots at the creature.

One or two shots from her Gauss rifle only piss it off, and after tearing through a fourth pack member it charges at the hedges. Danse threw himself in the the way, colliding bodily with the creature. It’s strong, but he’s pretty damn strong himself in the armor. He puts his weight into shoving it back and while it’s claws aren’t as sharp as a typical deathclaw it opens it’s maw and sinks it’s teeth into Danse’s armor, engulfing his head in it’s mouth.

For a few utterly horrifying seconds he thinks that this will be it, that he’ll wind up eaten by this creature. Something collides with it from behind and it roars, letting go of Danse’s armor. He pulls back and shoots it a few times in the gut, Vera’s roaring from her perch behind him and firing shot after shot, even Mason is emptying a clip into it. Yet none of these things are quite as impressive as the man in a loincloth impaling the creature with a fucking spear.

When it finally slumps to the ground dead the newcomer pulls his spear from the creature’s hide and walks to Danse, looking at him in with wide and amazed eyes. “Metal man.” He gently touched Danse’ chestplate. “Metal man okay?”

“I’m fine.” Danse nodded to the man and almost pitched forward when Vera jumped off her hedge and landed on his back.

“Hey there, sweetheart. What’s your name?” She asked, voice saccharine. The loincloth clad man blinked at her a few times before beaming at her.

“Cito. Pretty lady.” Behind Cito Mason looked sour faced. “Pretty lady and Metal man help Cito fight monsters? Monsters scare Cito family. Hurt family.”

“Sure, Cito. We’ll help your family. We came here to kill the monsters so that my friend Mason and his friends can play here.” Vera gestured towards the remaining pack members and Mason. Cito didn’t look too pleased at that. “Why don’t you show us your family, Cito?”

Cito’s family turned out to be strange creatures that he called Ghoulrillas. Both Mason and Vera seemed overjoyed to see them, Vera muttering something about Tarzan and this being the best day of her fucking life. Mason on the other hand walked around the enclosure and eyed the Ghoulrillas. “Huh, wondered if there was more. We found one wanderin’ around, took it to the theater.”

Though that probably meant that the Pack used a Ghoulrilla in their fighting Cito took it to mean something else. “Bright man help family?” And that was all it took for Mason to win Cito over. They came up with a plan of attack and put it into motion and were accompanied by Cito and his ‘brother’ Chris the Ghoulrilla. It said something about the state of his life that Danse just nodded his head and accepted that this was a thing that could happen in his life now.

They ventured deep into a lab to destroy a machine creating the beasts, then traveled all over the park killing the gatorclaws. By the end Cito was excited for more ‘bright friends’ to come to his home. It was a shame to leave Cito here with the Pack, the man seemed sweet if stunted by being raised by Ghoulrillas. “You sure we have to leave him behind?” Danse asked Vera in a soft aside as they walked back towards Nuka-Town.

“What, you think we’ve got room for him?” Vera asked with raised brows and a smirk. “I think I’ve only got space in my heart and bed for one tall dark haired man with soulful eyes.”

Damn it, that made him flush. “Soulful, huh?” He mumbled quietly and earned himself a grin in response. “I forgot. You don’t like to share.” Danse said louder, playing it up a bit for Mason who was lurking behind them. He wasn’t as good at playing the raider as Vera was, too many years of strict Brotherhood conduct drilled into his head. It was hard to shed any of it.

“No one touches what’s mine.” Vera agreed, reaching up to pat his neck. Once they got back to Nuka-Town she sent him back to the Grille to wait for her while she had Mason follow her back to the Amphitheater. She came back late in the night, looking a bit mussed but assured Danse there wasn’t anything to worry about.

The next few days were spent in the Grille, Vera meeting with Gage or Mags or Mason while Danse worked on his power armor. A few days after the Safari adventure he woke first and went back to the workshop. Not too long after Vera stumbled out to use the bathroom. A fairly normal scenario until he heard a soft and painful cry emerge.

“Vera?” He crossed to the bathroom and knocked once. “Are you all right?”

It took a minute for Vera to respond. “Yeah, I... I’m good. You up to running an errand for me?” She slowly opened the door and walked over to his worktable, obviously in some distress. She scribbled a note on a scrap bit of paper and folded it up a few times, handing it to him. “Give this to Mackenzie and come back.”

“Of course.” Danse did as he was bade and found the doctor easily at the market, passing the note over.

Mackenzie winced a bit reading it before looking through her stock of medicines. “Okay, this should clear it up in a few days. And if you two have been sexually active in the past week or so you should probably take some as well.”

“Why.” There wasn’t anything wrong with him, he’d been clean at his last screening and Vera had been as well.

The doctor didn’t answer, disposing of the note that Vera’d sent with him before handing over a tube of something. “Well, uh... You’re a lot less likely to get it than she is, but there’s a chance, so...”

They hadn’t had sex since before Vera left for the Institute, so there was no chance that she’d spread anything to him. That did leave a question of who she’d caught something from. His first angry thought was Mason: She had had a few late nights a the Amphitheater. “Not necessary.” He said in his flattest tones, swiping the tube from her and stalking back to the Grille.

Vera was laying flat on her back on the floor of his workshop muttering to Rat when he walked in. Rat initially smiled, but was able to read the mood pretty quickly and darted out to the stock room. Vera sat up, clearly in some sort of discomfort. “Here.” Danse offered her the tube and Vera looked anywhere but him as she took it from him. “You want to explain?”

“Oh, not even a little bit.” She said as she climbed to her feet and made a beeline for the bathroom. Danse settled on a chair outside of it, ready to wait as long as it took so they could talk this out.

“You’re going to have to come out sometime,” He finally called at her at the three hour mark of waiting outside. Danse at least had been able to entertain himself with tinkering with various things, Vera had naught but her own thoughts to keep herself company as she attempted to out-stubborn him.

“Danse, this is kind of a personal matter. Can you drop it?” Ah, yes, because how she got something contagious wasn’t his business at all. He grumpily pulled away, slamming the door behind him as he went out to the bedroom. They’d have to talk about it soon.

They didn’t at all in the next few days as they worked through Dry Rock Gulch and all the insanity that ensued there. That park also went to the pack and Danse had to deal with Mason’s smirking face as he hovered around Vera. The only solace that he took was that Vera wasn’t having it, swatting him hard in the gut when he got too close. She didn’t seem to be enjoying his presence at all, but she needed the Pack for her plan to work.

Maybe she knew she’d made a mistake and was having trouble addressing it? He knew Vera was possibly the most prideful woman he’d ever met and admitting she’d fucked up wouldn’t come easy. He backs off a bit and tries to let it fall from his mind.

Vera headed out to take stock of Nuka-Town and visit Mags and Mason, leaving Danse in bed with a few extra kisses and a regretful look when she has to leave. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” She promised before taking the lift down.

He doesn’t remain abed much after that, getting up and dressing and heading down into the utility closet to work on the ancient water heater. It was in especially poor shape, but Danse still thought he could get it to work. He busied himself down there for some time until there was a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hey, Overboss wants you at the zoo.” It was a pack raider, easily identified by the face paint and the stench of animals. Danse grunted in response, wiping his hands off on a rag before he strode out of the grille.

He realized his folly as soon as he walked through the gates to the old Amphitheater because he was boxed in and crowded towards the stage where Mason grinned at him from the inside of a large cage. “There he is! C’mon down.”

Oh goddamnit.

Danse is shoved into the cage with Mason who grinned at him in a predatory manner. “Hey there.” He said in a faux friendly manner. “Boss’ been real friendly with us but her man ain’t came down once. Felt we needed to get our differences solved.”

“Sure.” Danse snapped, circling Mason. This might actually be a good thing, a way to get out some frustrations. Mason watches him circle, that smirk still on his face, when suddenly he lunges. Guy’s faster than Danse would’ve assumed and he lands a punch square on his chin.

Fuck this. Danse tackled Mason, bringing him to the ground. They wrestled back and forth, landing punches and kicks when they could as they struggled for dominance. Any time Mason manages to flip him Danse fights right back until the painted idiot is pinned. Once he’s got him down Danse pulls his arm back and lets go with a flurry of punches.

His vision’s going a bit red around the edges, how dare this lowlife think that he could lay a hand on Danse’ girl, that he could drag him here in front of all his garbage minions and try to fight him. Mason was a worthless dreg of humanity and Danse was simply designed better than him-

There’s a sharp whistle from outside of the cage and Danse looks over to find Vera standing there, Rat nervously by her elbow. “Hey there, boys.” Vera greeted them with a smile and a flushed face. “Now, as fun as this is to watch I’m gonna have to ask you two to calm down and break it up.”

Danse pulled away from Mason and stood up, dusting his shirt off with shaking hands. He couldn’t turn his anger off so easily, he really wanted to ignore her and go right back to beating the hell out of the raider. But he’d always been good at obeying orders and Vera’s tone offered no leeway. Vera gently patted his shoulder when he left the cage before going to stand in it’s doorway looking down at Mason.

The Pack Alpha was taking a minute to collect himself, wiping blood from his nose and mouth. “Hey there, Boss.” He greeted, calm as could be, like it was just another normal day to fight your Boss’s boyfriend in a cage match. “He’s got a pretty good right hook.”

“Uh-huh. Mason, you ever touch what’s mine again and I’ll have you skinned alive.” Vera pushed off from the side of the cage and moved to Danse, reaching up to cup his face and turn it this way and that. “Well, at least you look handsome all scuffed up, baby.”

Danse just glowered down at her. He wasn’t in a mood to deal with this whole raider queen persona bullshit today. This entire incident wouldn’t have happened if she wouldn’t have fucked Mason, or lead him on, or whatever the issue was. Danse makes a beeline back for the Grille and God help anyone that got in his way. Apparently his glower was at it’s highest potential because people hopped out of his way pretty quickly.

Vera’s following him back and he at least waits until they’re in the grill before he goes off. “This is what happens when you string people along, Vera.” He snapped, whirling around as soon as the doors were closed behind Vera and Rat. The little pack raider scrambled away and into the elevator to escape the fight. “I don’t know what you’re playing at because you refuse to keep me in the loop, but if you want to fall in line with the Pack you can go right ahead, leave me out of it.”

She looks believably confused, but Danse is starting to fully realize what a good liar she is. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve flirted with him because he’s got a thing with me, but that’s just for manipulation. If I would’ve realized he was going to drag you off to get his ass beat I would’ve put a stop to it.” Her voice is calm and she dips her head down, trying to catch his eyes as he glares at the ground. “Danse, what’s wrong?”

“If not Mason, then who?” Danse glared up at her and stepped close and really towered over her. For one moment there’s a flash of fear in her eyes that makes him feel sick to his stomach. His anger abruptly cooled: Was she afraid of him? “Vera, please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you want to know.” The fear quickly left her and she crossed her arms and glared right back up at him.

“Mackenzie said that if we’d had sex in the past week or so that I would need to take that medicine as well.” Danse said as patiently as he could manage and comprehension dawns in her eyes. “So if you didn’t catch something from me, who did you catch it from?”

Vera muttered a low ‘Oh, Jesus’ before sighing and speaking in a louder tone. “The river of Quantum. I had to wade through it and had to stay in those sugar soaked clothes for a few days. I got a yeast infection, Danse. Mackenzie gave me an anti-microbial.” She ran her hand through her short hair and sighed. “I suppose if we’d had sex once I came back you could’ve caught one too.”

Danse reels back a bit and thinks on this. He supposed it made sense, sugar festering in a dark place could lead to an infection even if he didn’t really know how it would work in that particular instance. Before he can ask another question she sighs and looked off. “I was embarrassed. Kind of an old hangup, you don’t talk about that kind of thing with anyone but your doctor.” Vera reached up to gently touch his face, mindful of scrapes and swelling. “You don’t have to worry about me sleeping around on you. I might be a lot of things, but faithful’s one of them. If I ever have sex with someone else while we’re together it won’t be voluntary.”

Sighing, he reached up to hold her hands against his face. “You don’t talk to me. You get all in your head and I have no idea what’s going on. I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll try. It’s hard for me to be honest and frank with people. I’ve gotten burned before. But I’ll try for you.” Vera stood on her tiptoes and pressed a chase kiss to his lips.

The next order of business was to retake the Galactic zone. It was filled to the brim with robots all attacking them and Danse was actually glad for the added protection the raider power plates added because he needed it. They fought their way up to a place Vera’d pointed out on the map, ‘Starport Nuka’. “If any place is going to have a central computer it’ll be there!”

They get the gate up and roll in, hiding behind a large display case until the robots outside reset. Danse takes a moment to catch his breath before Vera gasps. “Oh my God.” She mumbled, looking up into the display case. “It’s beautiful.”

Danse had to agree, the suit of power armor was almost glowing. He took a sharp breath in: while he’d seen pieces of it this was the first set of X-01 he’d ever seen complete. Vera had her hands and face pressed against the glass, staring in at it. “I want it.”

“You know,” Danse said conversationally, crossing his arms and grinning over at her. “I seem to remember several conversations about how the T60 suit was too bulky and was inferior to a set of T51.”

“Shut up, don’t use my own words against me.” Vera shuffled back to the computer system, trying to boot up various things. “Ugh, we’re going to have to restore power to the park before we get that thing out. Though I can reset all the robots and shut them down.”

“That would be preferable to fighting through them.” Danse agreed and after a few more minutes of fiddling the patrolling robots outside powered down. Vera flew an operator’s flag and they headed out to inform Mags of the good news.

The next day was an easy one, spent mostly in bed. When Danse had tried to get up Vera’d tugged him back down, crawling on his chest and resting with her head over his heart. She’d made a happy little sigh and snuggled down and it made Danse loathe to leave. There were no pressing issues so they just stayed in bed.

When it started to get darker out Vera finally rose and stretched. “Mmm, c’mon. We’ve been lazy enough. I’ve got a surprise for you in the Galactic zone.” Vera twined her fingers between his and tugged him out of bed.

The walk to the Galactic zone is peaceful and once inside Vera nods at a few Operators as she walked through the park. “This way.” She grinned over her shoulder at Danse, leading him to a large building marked Starlight Interstellar Theater. “Once upon a time you told me you’d never seen a movie.”

It’d been a throw away moment months before as they’d stumbled on the ruins of a drive in theater. It was touching that she would remember. Danse flushed and checked around to see if there were any raiders watching. He saw none so pressed a quick kiss against the top of her head. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

“You put up with a lot of my shit. Least I can do is take you on a proper date night.” Vera walked into the theater proper where there were several raiders sitting in little Nuka-Cola space ship seats waiting for the picture to start. At the rear there was a concession stand manned by a sentrybot. Vera got a bucket of popcorn, two bottles of quantum, and a container of cotton candy and passed them over to Danse. “C’mon, we’ve got seats waiting up top.”

Someone had carted a couch up onto the catwalks and Vera climbed up on it, patting the cushion beside herself. Danse sat down and they sorted out the snack situation and Vera leaned against his side. A few minutes later the lights dimmed and the movie’s title screen popped up. ‘Night of the Fishman’s revenge’, apparently.

There were chunks of the screen missing and the sound was slightly off, but with Vera at his side gasping at all the scary parts and clinging to his arm he understood why movies had been so popular pre-war. “Did you come to the movies often before?” He asked as the credits started to roll.

“Sometimes.” Vera smiled up at him and rested her head against his shoulder. “Got kicked out of a few.”

“Oh?” Danse raised an eyebrow at her. “How did you manage that?” Vera just grinned, tossing the empty popcorn container down to the ground and crawling up on his lap. “Oh.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” Vera teased, leaning in for a kiss. She doesn’t stay there long, her lips moving down his jaw and to his neck then farther down as she slipped off of the couch.

\---

Vera leaves for the commonwealth a few days after flying the fifth flag above Nuka-World. Apparently Gage and another raider had came up with a plan to expand and Vera was looking forward to dispatching more Operators by leading the group to Sunshine Tidings.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” Vera gave him a tight hug before she left the Grill, pulling away slowly and looking reluctant to leave. “Just trust me.”

She seemed upset so he didn’t push things, just grabbing her hand so he could press a quick kiss to the back. “I trust you.” He promised.

Vera winked and put on a brave face. “I’ll hold you to that. Hold things down here.”

After she’d left Danse wondered what had happened to change her mood so. She’d seemed nervous about something, and if she was letting him see that she was nervous then it had to be bad.

Not much happens while she’s away, he has to deal with a few issues with raiders being idiots. The lone male Disciple tries to intimidate him once or twice but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Hilariously, Mason’s not been a problem at all after their fight. In fact, if Danse were to trust his instincts he’d say that the Pack’s leader was giving him the eyes.

Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.

But he works and he keeps busy until he hears that Vera’s returned, heading out with Rat to greet her. The assembled operators are looking quite pleased as Vera walked through the gates of Nuka-Town wearing a confidant smirk and the bloodstained duster of Preston Garvey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Vera's singing is 'Deadman's Gun' by Ashtar Command and it's what I was listening to for most of this chapter. Weakest chapter name to boot but they can't all be winners.


	15. Blame it on my lyin' leavin' two timein' double-dealin mean mistreatin' loving heart

“What did you do?”

Probably wasn’t the reaction that Vera expected from Danse after her very warm welcome from the raiders. Preston’s minuteman duster currently hung from the lift leading up to her quarters, the large hole over the heart on display for all to see. There was still a splotch of transferred blood above her own heart on her nuka-world shirt.

She sways lightly on her feet as she crosses across the grill to him, reaching up to pat the side of my face. “You promised you’d trust me.” Vera said softly and slowly, looking him dead in the eye. “I took care of things.”

“And by ‘Things’ you mean Preston Garvey?” Danse snapped while staring back at her, trying to figure out if this was just some horrible joke or a bluff. The problem he was having was that: A, Vera was a very convincing and habitual liar, and B, he honestly figured there was a chance that she’d just snapped.

“I took care of things that stood in the way of my plan.” She still stared up at him with an expressionless face, voice flat. “I’m taking care of everything.”

Yeah, he still couldn’t read her. Danse was going to gamble that she was playing a big con and hope that he was correct. “All right.” He said finally and her face lit up.

Vera beamed, all previous blankness in her eyes and on her face gone, and reached up to cup his face. “Good. Just let me take care of everything. You stay back where it’s safe.”

Her choice of words there is odd with her sudden preoccupation for keeping him safe. That continues in the next few days as she comes up with all manner of things to keep him in the Grille. They’d given up getting the power back on just yet and had taken a rocket launcher to the case in the Galactic Zone, finally freeing the suit of armor within. It was a full suit, not just a display or a model. A perfectly preserved set of X-01 armor. He spends time pulling the plates from it and fitting the frame to Vera’s small body then more time studying the wiring harness and the plating and everything about it. It would be reassuring to get her in such a protective suit.

It isn’t until he heads down to the market on an errand that Danse realizes just why she’d been so eager to keep him in the Grille. As he’s picking up an order of medical supplies from Mackenzie someone slides up close. He turns to find himself face-to-face with a familiar face: Sturges.

“So.” The mechanic drawled, a barely contained fury in his face. “Thought she’d killed you too, but here you are stitin’ pretty. Expected better of you.”

Danse takes the situation in quickly: The dark circles under the man’s eyes caused by grief or exhaustion, the general look of being uncared for, and most importantly, the slave collar around his neck. “What happened?”

Sturges snorted and shook his head roughly. “What, the ol’ liar queen not keepin’ you in the loop? Don’t know if that makes me feel better, you ain’t helped kill Pres but you stood by when it happened all the same.” He tapped the slave collar with a grime coated fingernail. “Like it? Her men put it on me after she blew a hole through Preston. Never saw it comin’, none of us did. Thought she were better than it. Wish she’d never crawled out of that damn vault. Dyin’ in Concord would’ve been kinder.”

The mechanic set his mouth in a firm line, shaking his head roughly and pulling away without another word. Danse watched him stalk off before heading out himself, making a beeline for the Grille. Upstairs, Vera sat behind a makeshift desk and was going over her notes on various things and comparing them to a map of the commonwealth. “Hey, Babe. What’s-”

“You’ll never believe who I met down at the market.” Danse interrupted, pinning her with his harshest stare. Vera put the papers down and leaned back in her chair. “Sturges.”

It takes her a moment to respond, like she’s weighing her options. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” She said carefully after her deliberation. “I figured it would upset you.”

“Upset me. Why would I be upset about seeing one of your friends in a slave collar? I assumed that you were lying about Preston, that you’d done something overly complicated to ensure your plan came to fruition. But you murdered him?” Outside Preston’s duster still flapped in the breeze like a ragged flag. “Why.”

“I told you.” Vera sounded irritable, rubbing her forehead. “I had to get rid of anyone in the way of my plan. It was collateral damage.”

“Collateral-! Preston Garvey was not-!” 

This time she’s interrupting him as she stands up abruptly, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me.” She seethed softly, fingernails scraping against the wood of the desk as she gripped it.

Looking back he can see the little signs all displayed clearly. Hindsight is 20/20 the old phrase went. The joy when she spoke about dispatching Colter, the late night meetings with the raiders, the increased chem and alcohol usage, this stupid over-complicated plan that she’d came up with to ‘disperse’ the raiders across the park. What an idiot he’d been to fall for that. He’d been losing her bit by bit without even realizing it.

“I’m leaving.” Danse told her flatly and simply, turning to do so. There was no chance of him staying here with the monster that had somehow been hiding behind the face he thought he’d loved. A sudden sob stops him short, it’s pained and panicked and still stabs into him despite everything. He never wanted to hear her hurt like that.

Until she started to speak, that is. “Oh, Maxson.” Vera bawled, sounding like she was actually managing to cry. That was confirmed when he looked over his shoulder, tears ran freely down her face. “It’s awful. We-We went to Nuka-World, and the Raiders...! They killed Preston, and they’ve got Danse in a slave collar! I just barely escaped, please! Please help me save him!”

After her little outburst Vera wiped the tears from her cheek and stared at him blankly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I figure I’ve got a good chance of talking him into coming personally with that. Might work on the phrasing a bit, play on his heartstrings a bit more. Maxson’s a good man and you’re his friend. I bet he’d tear down the world to get to you. You walk out that door? I’ll make you watch as I burn his heart out.”

Danse turned and regarded the door in front of him like it contained all the answers to his problems. Breathe in, breathe out. “What do you want.”

Her feet patter behind him, small arms encircle his waist. “Keep me happy. Just stay here where I can keep you safe. I’ll take care of you, find you more armor, make sure no one hurts you.”

“Like a pet.” He growled through gritted teeth.

Vera sighed and pulled from him, swatting at his behind. “Do your duty to your brothers and keep them safe from me.” She walked back to her desk and sat down, paying him to further mind. “You can hate me all you want, but you’ll be alive to do it.”

He stormed back to his workshop and just sat for a while, staring moodily at Vera’s beautiful set of X-01 Quantum armor. What an idiot he was. She’d played him like she’d played everyone else and he hadn’t seen it coming.

“I’m an idiot, Rat.” He sighed and Rat looked out from the little den he’d made for himself behind a dresser. Kid still refused to take the bed, again insisting that ‘beds were for people, Rats sleep on the floor’. “I didn’t see it coming.”

Rat scooted across the floor until he was by Danse’ feet and carefully leaned his head against Danse’ calf. “She’s a liar and good at it, I think the whole point is you don’t see it.”

Danse awkwardly patted the kid on the head, ruffling his short hair. He needed to get out of here, get back to the commonwealth and let Elder Maxson know what was going on. Perhaps they could absorb some of the Minutemen; without Garvey or Vera that left Ronnie Shaw as the highest in command officer and that wouldn’t be enough to keep their patrols going. Honestly, without Preston and his micromanaging the Minutemen were at a harsh disadvantage in regards to their previous state. “What am I going to do?”

“Sometimes all you can do is survive.” Rat said carefully, patting his foot. “And just try to keep surviving till you can live. It’s not good and it’s not fun and it’s hard, but you gotta do it.”

It’s not much to go on, but Rat’s pragmatic stance is how he pulls himself through the following days. Vera left for the commonwealth again, this time with a group of pack raiders. He’s left behind to keep busy and to try and figure out how to solve the problem he found himself in. He engrossed himself with his power armor, going over every joint and connection with a fine toothed comb.

“Hey, uh, update.” Rat said as he exited the elevator, voice oddly stuffed up. Danse turned to look at him and pushed himself quickly to his feet. The kid’s face was reddened and he pinched his nose shut to try and stem the bloodflow. Danse waved him to a chair and grabbed the med kit. “Disciples are extra fucky today. They’re not happy that the Boss ain’t givin’ them land.”

“Tip your head forward, let me look at you.” Danse pressed his lips together tightly and examined the kid’s face. Someone with a few rings had worked Rat over, he could see indents and cuts that said that much. “I can stitch these up, or leave them. Whichever you prefer.”

“No needles, man, I got me a fear.” Rat laughed a bit, but Danse could see that fear in the boy’s eyes. “Just get me some water and a rag and I’ll get cleaned up-” That dissolved into a yelp as Danse scooped the kid up and took him into the kitchen, sitting him down on the counter.

“Got the hot water working. Let me help, it’s about the only damn worthwhile thing I can do here.” Danse insisted and Rat stopped protesting, letting Danse clean him up. “You should probably stay here for a while. Give me your chore list and I’ll complete it for you. If anyone tries roughing me up they’ll need a larger group.”

There was a deep thrumming in his veins, a need to have a fight. He felt cooped up here, trapped in this nightmare. Fighting his way through some raiders sounded cathartic.

“ ‘Kay.” Rat’s eyes closed and he relaxed under Danse’ hands. “Um. Hey. Like, I know I ain’t pretty like the boss, but you got needs. If you ever need help just lemmie know.”

It took a minute for Danse to parse what Rat had offered. He sighed and kept cleaning the kid up. “I’m not interested in having sex with you, Rat.”

“I figured, just offerin’.” Rat tipped his head back so Danse could wipe the blood off of his neck. He could hear the elevator ding and swish open in the next room but Danse focused instead on Rat. “Someone’s coming.” He mumbled, squirming and obviously wanting to find a place to hide.

Danse grunted in acknowledgment, but he could hear a familiar female voice speaking. “Keep an eye on the situation and report back to me.” Vera instructed someone as she walked towards her bedroom. Before opening the door she paused, heading into the kitchen and taking in Rat’s state. “Jesus, Rat, what the hell happened?”

“Disciples are pissed you ain’t givin’ them land.” Rat explained meekly and Vera mumbled under her breath.

The man she’d been speaking with shadowed her in and Danse gave him a long stare. He was tall and dark skinned with impeccable cheekbones, eyes hidden by a standard pair of Operator glasses. There was an oddness about the man, he was too still and silent. After a moment he gave Danse a small nod and a very slight smirk.

“Well, I’ll have to stop in and have a chat with Nisha. Danse, Rat, this is Gabe. He’s been assisting me. Don’t be surprised if you see him about.” Vera introduced the Operator, reaching up to pat his chest with a smile.

“If they see me then I am not doing my job properly, Ma’am.” Gabe said flatly, standing at parade rest behind Vera. The overboss was rifling through her bag until she found some stims and med-x.

“Here, Rat, take care of yourself.” She handed the chems over before leading Gabe out of the room and into her bedroom for a chat. Or a ‘chat’, who knew? She was free to fuck whomever she wished now.

As soon as she left Rat handed the supplies to Danse. “No needles.” He repeated, looking worried. “I didn’t know that guy.”

“I don’t think you know everyone, Rat.” Danse finished cleaning him up, tucking the stims from Vera into the med kit.

The raider hopped off of the counter gingerly and grabbed the hem of Danse’ shirt to hold him back from leaving. “No, man, I know the people who matter cuz I like to know who to avoid. I went to see the first crew leave and he wasn’t one of the guys that left.” Rat whispered urgently. “Something’s up.”

“So he’s not one of the raiders that left. There’s around one hundred and fifty Operators still in the park, you can’t know them all.” It didn’t seem like a big deal to Danse, but Rat was getting more upset about it.

“Yeah, but any one that she’d be dragging in here for a one on one meeting is important and I don’t know him. And he’s weird. Don’t trust him.” Rat scowled before hobbling out to his little rat hole to nurse his wounds.

Danse returned to working on his armor and some time later Gabe left Vera’s room. The tall Operator quietly watched Danse work for a few minutes before Danse broke the silence. “Can I help you?”

“Just observing.” Danse found himself under close scrutiny, and despite the sunglasses on Gabe’s face his gaze was able to be felt. He wiped his hands off on a rag before standing, finding that Gabe had moved even closer while he was distracted. Danse found himself looking up at the man which was a rarity, he was long used to being the tallest man around. “I had assumed any man to gain her attention would be exceptional.”

It felt like an attempt to get a rise out of him and Danse wasn’t taking the bait. “Her opinion is the only one that matters in that aspect.” Danse replied tone almost as flat as Gabe’s. He kept all emotion out of the response, didn’t snap that he didn’t care that he had her attention. “Now, if you will excuse me.” Ignoring the instinct in his brain that screamed not to turn his back on the man he did so, gathering up his tools.

“Interesting.” He heard Gabe murmur, but any further conversation was cut off by the doors to Vera’s room opening. “M- Ma’am.”

“Hey, babe. Scoot off to the Parlor, I gotta talk with my man.” Vera smacked at Gabe and walked around him. Gabe nodded seriously and took the elevator down to the ground floor. “Hey. You comin’ to bed tonight?”

Ever since her threat against the Brotherhood Danse had been spending his nights in the small cot at the back of his workshop. “No.” He replied tersely, because there was no chance that he was going to spend a night in bed with that woman.

“Danse, please. I need you.” Vera’s voice went soft and cajoling, her hand slipped up his arm. Apparently his body hadn’t gotten the memo about not wanting her any more, because her touch still brought a flush to his face and sent a chill up his spine. “Just come to bed, let me hold you.”

“Unless you can un-murder Preston then we have nothing to discuss.” Danse tried to pull from her, but she slid her hands down his arm to grasp his hand. He didn’t stop her from pulling his hand up to her mouth, nor did he push her away when she pressed a few soft kisses to it’s back. “Vera.”

“So punish me. You know I’ve done horrible things, why don’t you just drag me off and shove me down?” After a few more kisses placed on the back of his hand she rested her cheek against it, looking up at him with the sweetest jet-addled smile. “You can do whatever you want. I won’t stop you.”

It’d be good, he knew that. But he tugged his hand away and stepped from her. “No. Call in Gage, or Mason, or Gabe.”

Vera’s surprised for a moment, then she looks self conscious as she dragged a thumb over the scars on her face. It isn’t the scars, he wanted to tell her, those had been around as long as he’d known her. He liked them actually, they showed that both radiation and deathclaws had no chance of taking her down. It was how she’d changed, the things she’d done, that caused him to pull away. “Please?” She tried again, voice small. “Just come to bed.”

“No.” And apparently third time’s the charm because she shuffled back into her room after that still looking self conscious.

Sleep never came easy, and that night was no exception. Late into the evening he finally laid down to stare at the ceiling until morning. Nearby Rat snored softly in his nest, uncaring of the world’s problems. He envied the young raider for how easily he could fall asleep, but then again he remembered when he finally felt safe in Rivet City when he and Cutler bunked together. That had been some of the best rest in his life, a warm back at his making sure no one would slit his throat in his sleep.

Sometime deep into the night the door to Vera’s room opened and he could hear her mumbling to herself as she crossed the room to his bed. Before he could protest or tell her to leave she was crawling on top of him, shaking as she pressed her face against his neck. “Don’t let him, don’t let him, don’t let him-” She chanted as she tried to hide from something he couldn’t see.

Danse could smell the alcohol on her and knew from that brief look he’d gotten of her face that she was out of her mind on some chem. The combination probably hadn’t worked out well for her. “Vera.” He whispered and she flinched, fingers digging desperately into his back.

“Don’t, please, please don’t.” She went silent and ramrod stiff before whispering desperately to him: “He’s here.”

There was no one in the room but himself, Vera, and Rat (who was now awake and staring over at Danse’ bed). “There’s no one here.” He said softly but she brought her hands up over her ears and continued to flinch at something only she could see or hear.

Seeing Vera in the middle of a bad trip didn’t make him happy at her misfortune, it only made him mourn the woman he’d cared for more. Danse gently stroked a hand down the side of her face and shushed her quietly as she shuddered in his arms. After some time she finally stilled, breathing a relieved sigh. “He’s gone.”

“Who was it?” He’s curious despite himself, wondering who she’d hallucinated to give her such fear. A ghost of Christmas Past via Preston Garvey, perhaps?

Vera pushed up from him, eyes far away. “Hated me bein’ with a Jew, ain’t fond of me bein’ with a spic either.” She patted Danse on the chest before crawling off the bed. “Thanks for hidin’ me. I’ll go.” She wobbily headed back to her room.

Rat crawled out of his hole a minute later, following after her. “I got it, don’t worry.” He waved at Danse and scratched his behind as he went through the doors.

Early in the morning Danse heard the lift outside the grille shudder and shriek into life as someone either departed or entered. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes before climbing out of bed and finding himself breakfast. He took a shower in the makeshift setup they’d made and exited back into his workshop to find Vera waiting for him with a serious face.

Since he hadn’t grabbed a shirt the conversation would be held with Vera refusing to make eye contact, staring instead at his bare skin. “I’m heading back to the Commonwealth.” She said, looking exhausted from the night before. “Hold down the fort. I sent Rat out on a mission, if he doesn’t come back in the next few hours go find him.”

“He was injured.” Danse growled, crossing his arms over his chest and disrupting her view. “The Disciples are likely still angry and you sent him out.”

“He’ll be fine, it’s early.” Vera reached out to touch his arm, pulling back at the last second. “So... Yeah. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Danse grunted and watched her go, towel drying his hair and finding a shirt. Shortly after Rat scrambled back into the room from the elevators, sliding to a stop in front of him. “Hey, here. Note for you. That creepy guy wants a meeting.”

Frowning, Danse took the note and unfolded it. He crumpled it nearly instantly however, because he knew the delicate handwriting that it was written in. Scribe Haylen’s penmanship was well known to him. The note had said simply ‘Bradburton’s office, REFRESHMENT’. He laced up his boots and furiously shoved the note into his pocket before storming down Main street to the office. The door was locked, but beside it was a keypad. He typed in REFRESHMENT and the door unlocked.

Inside Gabe waited for him, back pressed against the wall. “You came, good.” He said flatly, nodding for Danse to head up the stairs. Scowling, Danse does so. He barely reaches the top of the stairs before there’s a happy cry of ‘Sir!’ and Scribe Haylen’s there, throwing her arms around him.

She looks well, dressed in Pack gear and beaming up at him. Behind her is Rhys, but he’s wearing his standard Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit. There’s Sturges as well, sans slave collar. And beside him, arm in arm and dressed like an Operator, is Preston Garvey.

The Lieutenant gave him a two fingered salute and a wry smile. “Hey there, Danse. Heard Sturges laid it on pretty thick.”

“Hadta.” Sturges grinned and patted Preston’s back. “Needed to make it look like not everything was okay in paradise out there. Sorry.”

Danse was stunned and had no idea how to deal with this situation. He awkwardly patted Haylen on her back until she let go and looked at the assembled group. “Who else is here?”

“Brandis is down in the Vault, along with most of Vera’s companions. Another heavy force is going to be arriving after the current excursion into the Commonwealth. We’ve been entering through a secondary entrance elsewhere in the park, Bradburton has this whole place connected if you know where to look.” Haylen explained.

“We all arrived after the second excursion.” Rhys said as he leaned against the wall. Rhys didn’t exactly look comfortable in the situation, but he was all Brotherhood. Assisting in what apparently was a joint venture was outside his wheelhouse. “She came to the Prydwen with this big story about winding up in a raider nest. Thought she was full of shit initially, but looks like she wasn’t lying.”

Everyone’s all smiles (except for Gabe, he looks just as bored as usual) and Danse dragged a hand down his face. So Vera had lied and performed a fantastic bluff of the situation. The question was why had she felt the need to do so? Why had she not involved him?

Preston seems to get his internal thoughts and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Gage figured out something was up and called her out on it. Threatened to put a bullet in you if you left the town here.”

“Of course.” That explained why she’d been so preoccupied with keeping him in Nuka-Town, why she seemed initially obsessed that he was all right. Even when she threatened the Brotherhood, it’d been to ensure that he stayed put and stayed safe. “I-” Danse stopped as Gabe climbed the stairs and gestured towards the elevator.

“Someone’s at the door. Back in the vault.” The assembled group climbed in and Gabe shoved a bookshelf in front of it. “We need an excuse. Don’t hit me.” And as the door downstairs opened Gabe leaned down the few inches that separated them and pressed their lips together. 

Hell. They were in it deep, might as well run with it. He reached up to hold the back of the man’s head, brought their hips together. Gabe snorted and snaked one arm around the small of Danse’ back while trying to push him against the desk. It must paint a pretty easy to understand picture for Gage as he walked up the stairs.

“Goddamn, the balls on you.” The raider drawled and Gabe pulled back, regarding him with an even stare. “Makin’ the move on the Overboss’ man while she ain’t here.”

“I would argue it would take more ‘balls’ to ‘make a move’ when she was here instead.” Gabe said smoothly, acting like he hadn’t just gotten ‘caught’ messing with his boss’ boyfriend.

Danse crossed his arms and glared at Gage. “This is none of your business.” He snapped and Gage looked pretty delighted at the entire situation. Probably thought he was getting another point of leverage.

“I know it ain’t all fun in Paradise, but she’ll string ya up for this.” He taunted and Danse growled low in his throat.

“You’re right. Things haven’t been going well.” He said between gritted teeth, now knowing that much of the problems were apparently due to this man threatening him. “However, we’re working through our problems. She agreed to this situation.”

“I’m a ‘new hire’. You interrupted the ‘interview’ process.” Gabe added calmly, looking more amused than Danse had ever seen him. There was a very slight smile on his face. “Though I am going to assume I passed it due to your enthusiasm.” He said to Danse and that slight smile turned more into a smirk.

Asshole.

“Uh-huh.” Gage didn’t look like he believed the story at all, crossing his arms and smirking. “You think that’ll pass with the boss?”

“There is nothing to ‘pass’.” Danse snapped and Gage laughed, waving at the pair of them as he headed back down the stairs and wishing him the best of luck. Once the door shut behind him both Danse and Gabe looked down the stairs to make sure he was gone. “Well that was... Mortifying.”

“You are better at using your mouth than I assumed.” Gabe said dryly, giving another little almost-smirk when Danse looked up at him. “With your lying. I had assumed that you were unable with M-Ma’am being unwilling to involve you in the plot.”

Danse decided he wasn’t fond of Gabe. “It is far more likely that she simply desired to control the entire situation herself.” Which was classic Vera, really. Gabe gave a nod of acknowledgment of this observation and they left the office behind them.

They parted ways outside of the office, Gabe heading to the Parlor and Danse back to the Grille. “What did Creepy have to say?” Rat asked when he came back. Danse sat down heavily and rubbed his face with both hands.

“He wanted to make out a bit.” Was about the only part of the story he could tell Rat without exposing the plan or that Vera wasn’t a horrible raider queen. “My life has became increasingly more complicated since I came here.”

Rat blinked once or twice before darting over and gently patting Danse’ shoulder. “I think I heard about this once. You’re havin’ one of them mid life crisscrosses.”

Danse lifted his head and glared at Rat hard enough to send the kid scurrying away. He pauses before he gets too far. “Oh. Boss wanted me to show you something.” Rat waved him back to the employee area and pulled a locker away from the wall, revealing a door. “This leads to the tunnels.”

He regarded first the door then Rat, raising an eyebrow. Was he involved in Vera’s over-complicated plan as well? When he didn’t speak Rat started picking at the hem of his shirt and looking side to side. “I, uh, Boss said if I help she’ll make sure I don’t die and she’ll feed me.” The raider mumbled, which was entirely in character for Rat. Offer him food and shelter and he was yours. “You need to go down there, I’ll be lookout.”

“Thank you, Rat.” Danse carefully patted the young man on his shoulder and got a bright smile in return. Wasn’t it strange how kindness could win you someone so easily?

Vera was still away so there was no chance to talk with her about the revelation he’d undergone, no chance to apologize or to hold her tight or to even give her a shake and ask what she’d been thinking in keeping it from him. Danse did his usual work in his workshop: he checked his armor again for any issues, paroled around, fiddled with the Grille’s garbage electric. Late into the night, when Rat was long asleep in his nest, he finally turned all the lights off and laid down.

Sleep didn’t come, but he knew from past experience that just laying down and trying to calm his mind that it would help with the next day’s exhaustion. While he lay there thinking about what to do the next day, how to deal with this situation, he heard something that logically he knew that he shouldn’t. Footsteps near silently creeping down the hallway from Vera’s bedroom. Danse quietly pushed himself up onto his elbows as if that would help him focus on the sound better.

Unless it was a very good hallucination there was something walking down the hallway. He took a quick look around himself: there were no conventional weapons readily available but there were a few heavy tools that he could improvise with. Rat finally awoke when the door to the bedroom doors quietly pushed open and Danse motioned for him to stay quiet. 

The footsteps approached and paused just when the glow from the bedside candle illuminated the person in it’s flickering light. Savoy looked especially frightening barely lit up, his body seemed too tall and too thin and the light caught his armor in various places. “Huh.” The raider mused when he saw Danse awake. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

“I don’t sleep.” Danse replied and gets a soft huff of almost-laughter from the raider before he launched himself at Danse, his knife extended. Rat squeaked as Danse grabbed his wrench to parry with. Savoy just kept coming despite his target being awake and fighting back. His jagged armor was well suited for close combat fighting, not only could Danse not find a good spot to grapple but when he failed at finding a handhold he was cut for his trouble.

Still, it wasn’t like he was going to just lay down docilely while Savoy gutted him. Even if the raider had him beat in some aspects Danse had a few points in his favor, namely reach and weight. He shoved himself forward, aiming his shoulder at the relativity safe area of Savoy’s chest hoping to knock him back.

He was successful, the raider landing with a surprised huff on his behind as Danse followed him down. Savoy struck at him with his knife and managed to lodge it in Danse’ shoulder. He yelped and managed to remove the knife and toss it to the side. With both men disarmed the match on the floor abruptly turned to Danse’ favor. He was able to pin him with his superior weight, and once he felt secure he brought one hand to Savoy’s neck and put his body’s weight behind it.

“K-keep him still!” Rat squeaked and Danse looked up to find the raider youth holding a pipe pistol with shaking hands. Before Danse could tell him anything different the young man grabbed Savoy’s helmet and pulled it from his head. There was one brief moment where Danse finally saw his attacker, his face reddened from his struggle for air. Then there’s the too loud sound of a gun firing and Danse is splattered with blood and viscera as Rat shoots true.

Danse sat back on his heels and looked at the shuddering young man, still somewhat surprised that Rat had involved at all. He seemed far more likely to run and hide and protect himself. Rat put the pipe pistol down on a table and looked at the ground. “I ... I’ll get stims for your shoulder.” He mumbled before dashing off to do just that.

As Rat bandaged his shoulder after Danse injected himself with the stimpack both men went on guard as the elevator hummed into life. As it came to a stop they could hear arguing voices within and out stepped Gage, Mags and her brother, and Mason. Gage stopped the group and stared at the scene before him, Danse being bandaged and Savoy’s cooling corpse on the ground. “Hell, they already hit here.”

Danse bit at his lower lip before nodding while Rat tried his damnedest to look small and unworthy of notice. “I take it that there have been other attacks by the Disciples?”

“Word’s came back from the Commonwealth that our Overboss is favoring the Pack and the Operators.” Mags eyed Savoy’s corpse with a satisfied smirk before turning her gaze to Danse. “Which we certainly appreciated. But, surprise, surprise... Nisha wasn't exactly thrilled to hear the news.”

“Yeah... she and her gang forced their way into the Power Plant. Now they've got the entire place locked down.” William added with a sour scowl. “Looks like she sent Savoy in to give the Boss a personal message, if she comes back. That last group she took out were Disciples.”

Mason meanwhile had moved close to Danse, eyeing the wound and giving Rat a hard stare. The young man managed to stand his ground despite how he shuddered at the close presence of the Alpha. “I won't be satisfied until it's my hands wrapped around her scrawny little neck - eyes popping out of her stupid little mask.” He growled, fingers twitching as he thought about that plan.

“Both of you, shut up!” Mags snapped, rubbing her forehead as if the mere act of the two men speaking caused her to have a headache. “We lose the Power Plant, we lose our edge. But Nisha doesn't seem to care if we all burn.”

Rat gave Danse’ shoulder a little pat and he took that to mean that he was good to go. Danse stood and stretched, looking at the assembled raiders. The only one who seemed to be paying him attention in particular was Gage, the raider’s remaining eye was calculating. “So we take Nisha down.” Danse shrugged his good shoulder. “Send in a few groups to clear out the Fizztop of the Disciple filth while we attack their forces at the power plant.”

Mags raised a lofty eyebrow and looked to her brother. “And I suppose we’re supposed to listen to you while our overboss is out of town?”

“I am aware of how she acts when she is angry.” Danse said flatly, regarding the raiders with an even stare. He had to sell this, get their cooperation just long enough to take down the Disciples. “And I am not going to sit here waiting for her to come back before dealing with this situation. If you would like to deal with her wrath you are welcome to stay back.”

“Hell, I ain’t lettin’ him go out without the Pack getting to join the hunt.” Surprisingly Mason is completely behind this plan. Mags and William stared at each other in a silent conversation before coming to a decision.

“After this stunt I’ll put a bullet in her myself.” Mags said smoothly and William nods.

Gage has stayed silent this entire conversation, regarding Danse with that same constant calculating look that he seemed to always have. “Right. We get together Pack and Operators that can do without having their hands held and send them into the Mountain to take out the Disciples there. Ya’ll handpick your best and we’ll meet outside the plant.”

Mags, William, and Mason all leave around the same time while Gage hangs back just an extra moment to give Danse one last look over and a little smirk. Danse didn’t exactly know why but he assumed it was nothing good. Once they were gone he sighed and looked down at Rat, who appeared to be silently having a breakdown. “You all right?”

“Yeah, sure, everything’s great and I’m only about to piss myself with fear a lil’ bit.” Rat squeaked, edging backwards into his little rat’s nest. “I... Yeah, you’re not expecting me to, like, join you in Disciple raiding right?”

“No, Rat. Stay here, cut power to the lifts.” Danse moved to his armor and wrenched it open, hopping in and sealing it behind himself. “If you happen to see anyone you can take a shot at from up here and you feel like it, feel free to take pot shots.”

Great. I’ll kill power once you get down.” Rat followed him to the elevators, and short after Danse walked into the lobby of the Grille the lights flickered out. Gage met him outside of the Grille and they silently walked to the power plant.

Mason and Mags both broth along around fifteen of their raiders, and Danse recognized both Brandis and Gabe among the Operators. He couldin’t discern if there were any allies of his among the Pack with their masks and paint, but knowing that there are at least two people on his side make him slightly less anxious of the situation.

If someone would have told him months before that he would find himself leading two groups of raiders into a derelict power plant to fight a third group of raiders he would’ve referred them to Cade for an examination. But there he found himself taking point and kicking in the door to the power plant, backed up by a slew of bullets from the raiders behind him. More than once he sees one of the Pack or Operators fall from a shot to behind, Gabe and Brandis were taking shots when they could get them to thin out the herd apparently. That, or the actual raiders were such terrible shots that they were taking their own out.

The shots to his armor were on purpose, though. He was willing to bet on that. They weren’t enough to penetrate his defenses but it was enough to remind him that he was a target too.

The Disciples final stand was on the roof of the power plant, the encounter made more difficult by the cover of night. Without Savoy or Dixie to back her up Nisha is reliant on her more heavily armored top officers to tear through any unlucky raider that crosses into their path. Danse doesn’t stick his neck out for any of them, even his allies (He can’t afford to blow their cover and knows that Brandis at least can hold his own). He takes his shots where he can find them and it’s Mags who lives up to her threat by putting the final bullet in Nisha’s head.

Nisha’d been lurking by the power control for Nuka-World, and it’s simple to enter the building and press the levers to restore power to the park. One by one the different areas come to life, their garish lights bright against the dark of night. “Hell. Look at it all, lit up like that.” Gage sounds almost awed as he stared out at the park.

It was a sight. Hopefully a beacon to light Vera’s way back home.

Danse stays with the raiders on the way back, not wanting to be too far from the remaining raiders. The group has been thinned considerably and the ones left over look worse for the adventure except for Gabe. Gabe only looks slightly ruffled by storming the power plant. As they near Nuka-World there’s a lone figure headed their way.

It’s Vera, of course it is. She also looks worse for wear, messy bandages on the left side of her face and on her neck. The Last Minute is slung across her back and she’s carrying a Disciple’s knife in her hand. Initially she looks wary of their group, but once she gets close enough to see faces she shows some relief. “Gage, you put one in Nisha?”

“Please, he’s worthless.” Mags called out with a smirk, waving a triumphant fist in the air. “I took her out.”

“Atta girl.” Her eyes dart over everyone, her smile gets a tough wider at the sight of Brandis and Gage both dressed as Operators. “Thanks for getting the lights back on, made spottin’ this place in the dark easier.”

Danse pulled his helmet off and tucked it under one arm. “Can’t let you do everything.” He said and earned himself a tired smile in return. Vera sheathed her new knife and reached up to touch his face. “The Disciples at the plant have been eradicated. While we ensured that, a secondary group entered the Mountain to take care of the remainder.”

“Mmmhm, I got the briefing when I stopped in Nuka-Town.” Vera stroked her thumb over his cheekbone and her eyes look almost timid at even touching that much. It was true that they’d parted on bad terms, but she had to know that by letting him in on the plan he understood that she wasn’t a horrible raider who’d murdered their friend. But, to just ensure that she did know, he turned his head towards her hand and kissed her wrist. The tired smile on her face widened into one of joy. “C’mon, gang. It’s been a long ass night. We all earned us some rest, I’ll be by in a day or so to go over dispersal of Disciple territory and the like.”

Gage tries to get her alone before she climbs into the lift with Danse, but she waves him off. “M’tired, Gage. It can wait till morning.”

The lift rumbled into life and Danse spots Rat peering over the side of the Grille watching them. “He probably wants to pass along that I’m cheating on you with Gabe.” Danse murmured, making Vera look up to him with alarm. “He caught us in Bradburton’s office.” He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, letting Vera put the pieces together.

She does, letting out a surprised little laugh. “Gabe, huh? Wouldn’t think he was your type, but. That mean we should bring him here after hours some night for a little three way?” Her grin is wicked as they climb off the lift. “Hey there, Rat. Good job.”

“Yeah, I do what I can.” Rat shot Vera a pair of finger guns and moved to help Danse hook his armor up to the bedroom’s armor frame so that he could exit it. “Who shot you in the back?”

“Probably Gage.” Danse stretched once he was out of the armor, surveying the damage. Like he’d suspected, nothing that pierced the plating. Danse leaned over a bit to capture Rat’s attention and gestured towards the door to his workshop. It took a moment for Rat to get the hint but he nodded and left them alone.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Vera asked as she drew close to inspect the damage to his armor. “Swear to God, I’ll vivisect him if he hurt you.”

Danse shook his head and leaned down, first kissing the bandages on her cheek and then the ones on her neck. “I’m not hurt. He threatened me?”

“He’s smarter than I thought.” Vera shuddered and tipped her head away, letting him have more available area to kiss. He can feel her pulse racing against his lips. “Figured something was up. I couldn’t let him do anything to hurt you, I...”

This close and he can feel her struggle to force words out, and even though he wants to hear what she wants to say he murmured: “I know.”

She squeezed his arm gently. “Thank you. Why don’t we take this to bed and...” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, soft and sultry. “...Fill each other in on what’s happened.”

Danse snorted but gently began to pull the pair of them towards the bed. Vera pulls from him for a moment to tug her shirt off, stretching her arms up over her head and dropping it to the ground. There’s additional damage that he can see now that her shirt’s gone, more bandages wrap around her torso. “Disciples attacked when we’d gotten far enough from Nuka-World that the sound of the fight wouldn’t carry back.” Vera said as if she could hear his thoughts wondering about their origin. “If I didn’t have two of my own in their midst I’d’ve probably gotten killed. Managed to evade their knives but one bitch got lucky with a Molotov.”

Just thinking of how she would’ve been hurt, screaming and tearing at her clothes to remove the soaked cloth before the fire took her down, made Danse scowl. If he had known he would’ve taken more shots at the Disciples at the plant in retribution. Instead of asking if she’d properly tended to the wounds he chose to instead inform her about his experience with the Disciples. “Savoy snuck into the Grille after hours to target me.” He said and Vera whipped around to stare at him as he pulled his own shirt off. Silently she raised her hands up to gently touch at the edge of the bandages wrapping his shoulder. “As I seldom sleep I was able to fend him off. With Rat’s assistance.”

“I’ll have to give Rat extra dinner.” She murmured as she wrapped her arms gingerly around his chest, pulling herself in close. Danse sighed and stroked a hand up her back. “...M’so tired of this.” Vera mumbled, words muffled against his chest. “But we’re almost done.”

Danse made an agreeing noise as he sat on the edge of the bed, letting her settle onto his lap for a minute. Instead of moving to lay down they sat there like that for some time, silently holding onto one another. He was fairly sure that he would be content to stay like that, holding her until she fell asleep, if not for a sudden odd feeling he had. Danse looked up and jumped, causing Vera to snort herself back to full wakefulness.

Gabe stood at the entrance to the bed area, a silent sentinel at parade rest. He nodded to both of them but said nothing. Vera rubbed a hand down the unbandaged side of her face. “Gabe, baby?”

“Ma’am?” Gabe said blandly, acting like her calling him by pet names was nothing.

“Why are you just standing there ominously in the darkness?”

“Psychological advantage.” The man said flatly, causing Vera to dissolve into giggles as Danse held her. It didn’t make sense to him, perhaps an inside joke? Or perhaps she was just that exhausted. “Porter Gage assumes that Danse and I are having a tryst. I thought it may be useful cover to give you a briefing of the state of the Operators.”

Vera rose from Danse’s lap and waved Gabe towards the bed. “Yeah, Danse mentioned you two had a little thing to keep Gage off your tail. Shuck off your shirt and pants and crawl in.” Vera shimmied out of her own pants, crawling into bed and patting the spot in front of her with a smile to Danse.

Danse and Gabe stare at one another for a minute before Danse sighed, following Vera’s lead and stripping down to his boxers for bed. This wouldn’t even rank on a list of oddest things in his life that had happened, which was a bit hysterical. He settled himself in front of Vera and she happily snuggled up to him. Gabe stood silently for a few moments after that before slowly undressing and slipping into bed behind Vera. She wriggled an arm free and reached behind to pat at Gabe. “No funny business, we’re both hurt and you’re unwilling. Just give me the report.”

“Ma’am.” Gabe said blandly, but Danse caught a hint of relief there. Had he thought they would actually take him into their bed? “Mags and William went to closed quarters after they returned to the Parlor. Reconnaissance found that they were conversing about the chances that you were truthful with your plan of taking out Mason and leaving the Operators as the sole gang residing in Nuka-World. Conversation seemed to favor that you were playing both sides, then moved to the likelihood of being able to take you out and install Mags as leader. Decision? Unlikely, due to your high regard and a new appreciation for your ‘man’s combat abilities.”

“Hmmm.” Vera sighed through her nose, fingertips dragging along Danse’ arm before sliding up his neck and into his hair. She sighed again, nose pressed flat against the hollow of his neck. “He’s real good at shootin’ stuff.”

“I have been made aware.” Gabe said tonelessly. Danse can see movement from his side of the bed and then there’s a soft clacking on the bedside table, apparently Gabe put aside his glasses. “You should have your injuries tended to by a professional, ma’am.”

“S’fiiine.” Her voice was already thick with sleep. Frankly Danse was was surprised that she was still conscious. “Deek took care a’me.”

Somehow, Danse knew that if he got up and went down through the access hatch into the subterranean tunnels where her friends were hiding that he would find Deacon with that usual feckless smirk on his face and hands covered in bandages from where he tore the burning clothing from her. Danse also knew that if he attempted to ask the Spy about his wounds Deacon would tell him the most improbable lie with a straight face and somehow make it sound believable. He felt a sudden rush of appreciation towards the spy, despite their differences in ideology.

“Ma’am.” Gabe’s voice is still flat, but it manages to carry disapproval heavily. “Are you requiring me to stay here through the night?”

Another sigh from Vera, but no other response. From how her breathing had deepened and how her fingers in Danse’s hair had gone still, he would assume she was asleep. “That is likely her plan. If you are uncomfortable I am sure that you are capable enough of sneaking back into bed before Gage lets himself in.”

Gabe snorted and stretched his arm out over Vera’s side and touching Danse’ with the lightest of fingertips. “I have been in far more ‘uncomfortable’ situations than this.” There’s a darkness to his tone there, an unspoken lifetime of harsh experiences. “The likelihood of being attacked tonight, despite the removal of most Disciples, is still high. Remaining here to ensure that no one makes a move is the most logical course of action.” 

The man shifted and now that the power was back on in Nuka-World there was more light even at night. Gabe peers at him over Vera’s head, face bare for the first time. His eyes are blue, bluer than anything, and there’s something in Danse’ sleep deprived brain that’s lighting up warning signs at the sight of them. “Eyes.” Was all he managed to get out, he felt like he should say something but didn’t know what.

“I get them from my Mother.” Gabe stared at him for a moment longer before ducking his head down, almost as if he were hiding behind Vera. “Feel free to sleep, Paladin. I will wake you if there is a need.”

“I don’t sleep.” Danse mumbled, but could feel exhaustion pulling him down. Vera was a warm weight in his arms, and somehow even the light touch of Gabe’s fingertips was reassuring. The man was competent (how did Vera keep falling in with unreasonably competent wastelanders?) and would surely wake him if need be. Maybe he’d even manage a few hours before a nightmare woke him up.

It is Gabe’s hand that wakes him up, silently drumming a beat against his side. A moment later the lift outside hums into activity and Danse opened his eyes to survey the situation. Gabe’s laying there like he belongs, not a hair out of place. Vera had done the thing again, the thing where she went to sleep adorable and demure and curled up at him, and somehow during the course of the night sprawled out everywhere. Her legs were draped back over Gabe and the hand that had been in his hair was now pressed to his face, pushing his head back at an angle.

Danse is glad that Gabe woke him when he did, because he got to see the quick round of emotions flit over Gage’s face as he entered into the bedchamber. The initial surprise of finding three of them in the bed when he assumed there would be two, the shock when Gabe so casually reached out to the side table to pick up his glasses perfectly timed with Vera sighing and stretching her legs out further over Gabe’s in an almost possessive movement, disappointment as he realizes that he won’t be able to use the ‘tryst’ he walked in on to drive a wedge between them.

The hand on his side moved back and Vera jerked awake as Gabe likely pinched her side. Vera finally removed the hand pushing his face back and he stretched his neck as she rubbed her own face. Blinking sleepily she looked about, spotting Gage. “Can I help you?” She mumbled to Gage before smacking backwards at Gabe. “Find my pants, hon.”

Gabe leaned out of bed and fished them up from the floor and Vera tugged them on before crawling out from under the blankets, eyes half closed. “Will you require our services?” Gabe asked and earned a head-shake. “I will find some way to occupy my time until your return, then.”

“Slut.” Vera grabbed her shirt off the floor and pulled it on as she grabbed Gage’s arm. “C’mon, don’t look at them they’re mine. Is Fizztop clear?” She fell back into the raider queen persona easily. “Good. Give me a briefing on our current situation on the way over there.”

After Vera dragged Gage off, Gabe reclined back onto the pillows and just laid there. Was this awkward? Yes, Danse decided, this was awkward. He swung his legs out from the bed and stood, pulling his pants from the night before on. “Are you just going to lay here?”

“I told Ma’am that I would find something to do.” Gabe pillowed his upper arms under his head and looked more like he was laying in wait than relaxing. “I think that you overestimate the times in my existence where I have been permitted to lay inactive. If it will further shroud our activities, I am content to lay here.”

“You do that.” Danse leaned over to grab his shirt, wincing as he stretched out his shoulder. He idly massaged his neck, willing the knots to go away. He should say something. Continue conversation. Be social. It was what would be expected, if Gabe was one of Vera’s friends.

Being social was not something he excelled at, and frankly at this stage if Vera expected that then she was fooling herself. Danse grunted as he pulled his shirt over his head and walked away from the bed with the intent to move his armor back into the workshop.

He half expects Rat to pop out of his hole and help him chain the armor in place, but the young man is nowhere to be seen. He’s momentarily worried, thinking that perhaps there’d been another attack. No, they would’ve went for Vera and Gabe would’ve alerted them. Danse exited his armor and looked about, finding Rat in the most unexpected spot.

The young raider was curled up in the workshop’s bed, sound asleep despite the noise of Danse’ armor. Vera had promised the boy safety, and perhaps now Rat felt that he could stop being a rat and start being a person again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. This chapter took a lot longer than I anticipated to get out, and even then it was longer than anticipated. I was hoping to wrap up Nuka-World in this chapter before going to the next plot point, but somehow I was entirely too long winded. So the next chapter will be the end of Nuka-World, for better or worse. 
> 
> On an added note, broken finger is now healed, but from all the typing I was doing using nine fingers while it healed, I have somehow undone my entire life of touch typing and now have to think about using my finger instead of typing the way that I've been doing for two months. Great.
> 
> I think this entire chapter has an odd, off kilter feel to it and I may come back and edit it later. I've been going through finally getting medication to treat various issues and they've left me dealing with the side effects. We'll see how things go, but I'm hopeful that I've found something to make life easier without killing my creative side and leaving me a zombie.


End file.
